


there is stardust in our veins

by Aza_Marael



Category: Persona 4, Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Persona 3 characters are here and there, Yu and Akira are brothers, i love my children, i'm in persona hell, when i figure out what i'm doing with my life, with personas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2018-10-30 09:17:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10873773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aza_Marael/pseuds/Aza_Marael
Summary: Narukami Yu just wants to make sure his brother is happy.Kurusu Akira just wants to survive the year.A Superhero!AU where Yu is Akira's older brother and spends his nights parading around as a superhero.Naturally, complications arise when his brother is a criminal.





	1. a matter of moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “One thing I am certain of  
> is the most meaningful  
> and compelling  
> events in our lives  
> often come and go  
> in a matter of moments.  
> Like shooting stars –  
> you gasp, then they’re gone.”
> 
> ~Beau Taplin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this series so much, I felt that it was about time I did something like this. Also I have this headcanon that all the protags are related in some way and ugh, I can’t help myself. I don’t actually know too much about the first two games, so those protag’s will be not much more than mentioned in passing or very brief appearances.

Yu was only three years old when his father died.

He did not understand exactly what was going on, like why all these adults were around, looking at him with these sad faces. He could not understand why mother was crying; only that he wanted her to stop. Uncle Ryotaro and Aunt Chisato were there, talking in soft voices to one another. When he saw Yu looking, he gave a sad smile.

Aunt Miho and Uncle Hayate were the last to arrive, bringing with them their two children. Aunt Miho gave him a small smile before moving towards mother. Uncle Hayate joined Uncle Ryotaro and Aunt Chisato at the kitchen table.

Minato and Hamuko eventually found their way to him. The twins were only two years older, but those two years felt like eons.

“C’mon, let’s go play.” Hamuko grabbed his hand and pulled him away, her auburn-colored ponytail swinging back and forth as she walked. Yu didn’t want to go yet; he wanted mother to stop crying. But Hamuko didn’t give him much of a choice, pulling him along with Minato trailing behind.

* * *

 

Yu wasn’t sure he liked his new dad. He may have been only five years old, but he felt that he and mother had been doing just fine without a dad. But he hadn’t said anything when they’d gotten married a year ago, and he wasn’t going to say anything now. Not when mother smiled like that.

Mr. Nao smiled down at Yu as he entered the kitchen. “What’s up little man? You hungry?”

Yu tried not to scowl too hard at him as he dragged the stepstool out from the pantry, pulling it up to the counter before climbing on top. He opened the cabinet, but found that that his favorite glass—the big tall one with the cartoon deities on it—was still too far to reach.

It was only as he was climbing onto the counter that Mr. Nao stepped in.

“Hey, why don’t I get that for you kid?” He had a tight-lipped smile, edging in front of Yu, as if trying to block his way. This time, Yu let him see the irritation at the man on his face before pointedly ignoring him and reaching up. The glass was just out of his reach, but he could brush it with his fingertips. He raised himself on his toes. _Just a little more…_

Yu didn’t register the sensation of falling until he was already being held by Mr. Nao, the man kneeling on the ground. Yu looked up at him; he smiled, white-faced and shaky.

“Hey, little man. Let’s not do that again, okay? Next time you want something, just ask me or your mom to get it for you.”

Yu didn’t understand what the problem was, only that when he looked at the floor, his favorite glass was in pieces.

Mother ran into the kitchen only a few seconds later, her bare feet narrowly avoiding the glass shards on the floor. “Yu, Nao! What happened? I heard something break, are you alright?” She spoke almost too fast for Yu to understand, breathing the way she does after playing tag, her gray eyes big and round and scared. Yu wondered what she was so afraid of.

* * *

 

After that incident, Yu wasn’t allowed into the kitchen alone. He hated being babied, but he hated getting in trouble even more. So when mother called him into the living room for a “talk”, he spent the entire agonizing trudge downstairs trying to figure out what he did wrong. He hadn’t violated the kitchen rule, and he didn’t get into any fights. He brushed his teeth and put away his toys and took a bath when he was supposed to. Really, the only thing he could think of was the chocolate bar he’d snuck into his room, but they couldn’t have found out about it. Could they?

He peeked around the corner before actually entering the living room. They didn’t look mad, but he couldn’t be completely sure. Unfortunately, the only way to know was to walk into the lion’s den.

Mother smiled at him as Yu tread into the living room with cautious steps. “Come here, Yu, sit down.” He sat. Mother and Mr. Nao shared a glance before she spoke up again. “Yu…” A pause. She tried again. “Yu, you’re going to be a big brother.”

Yu didn’t quite understand what that meant, but nodded along anyways. It meant he wasn’t in trouble.

“When the baby comes, your mother and I are going to be real busy, and we’ll need you to be good and help take care of your little brother, okay?” Mr. Nao smiled, and Yu decided that was the smile he liked the least. It made him feel like a baby. He was a big kid now. Even if he wasn’t allowed in the kitchen alone.

Mother beamed, reaching out for him; when he came in reach of her outstretched arms, she pulled him into a gentle embrace. For the first time Yu is distinctly aware of the way her stomach has gotten bigger.

“That’s my boy. I knew you’d understand.”

Yu didn’t quite understand, but she was warm, and so he let her continue to hold him.

* * *

 

That conversation would be forgotten until many months later, when Mr. Nao drove him to the hospital. Yu didn’t know why at first—he just knew that Mr. Nao was unnervingly calm for his wife to be in the hospital.

“Don’t worry, little man. She’s not sick,” he was saying, but Yu didn’t really believe him, “We’re going to meet your new little brother.”

The parking lot was empty when they got there—but of course, it was a late Sunday night, and Yu had school tomorrow—and the hospital was large and bright in the darkness and kind of intimidating. Mr. Nao took his hand with large clammy palms, and while Yu didn’t really like it, he let himself be led along to the doors that slid open in front of you like they did in the Junes down the street.

The first thing Yu registered about the hospital was that it was big and bright and white and smelled funny. Yu wrinkled his nose as he looked up at the old lady in the white dress that Mr. Nao spoke to. She smiled down at him, waved, and gestured for him and Mr. Nao to follow her as she walked down one of the many, many hallways.

There were so many doors; some were closed, curtains drawn and uninviting, while others opened only a crack, just enough for Yu to catch a glimpse of a TV blathering away or an adult with a coat and clipboard and more white. Then there were the few rooms whose doors were wide open, and Yu could see the white beds where people slept or sat as well as the wide windows that looked out into the night. It looked like it might rain.

Eventually, he was pulled to a stop before he could continue walking, Mr. Nao’s hand still clutching his in a strong grip. The nurse said something, smiled and waved at Yu once more, and left. They were in front of one of the rooms, this one closed tight.

Yu was smart enough to figure that this was the room mother was in, and he looked up at Mr. Nao’s anxious face, not understanding why he wasn’t going in. He was the one that had said mother wasn’t sick; he had no reason to be scared, right?

In the end, it was Yu that actually opened the door, prying his hand out of Mr. Nao’s clammy grip and peeking inside. Mother was there, and she smiled at him, looking tired and sweaty, but she was holding a wiggling thing wrapped in a blanket in her arms.

Yu clambered to her side, hoisting himself up onto the bed as mother shifted to make room for him. Mr. Nao closed the door behind him, taking a seat on a squeaky plastic chair. Yu looked at the wriggly thing—it was a baby, though an ugly one—and its wisps of black hair matted to its head and its tiny nose. It didn’t look happy.

“This is your baby brother, Yu.” Mother’s voice was soft and raspy and full of something like love. “You’re going to be a big brother now.”

Yu took another look at the baby that was supposed to be his brother. He didn’t know how to feel about it.

“Have you decided what to name him?” Mr. Nao spoke quietly, sounding as exhausted as mother, even though he hadn’t done anything.

Mother smiled down at the baby. “What do you think, Yu?”

Yu frowned, and took one of his own small fingers to poke at the baby’s round stomach, only for his attempt to be interrupted as tiny fingers curled around his own. Bright eyes squinted up at him, and while Yu could tell the baby wasn’t quite looking at him, it still filled him with a sense of pride he’d never felt before. The name came to him only naturally.

“Akira.”

* * *

 

Akira, Yu quickly learned, was a handful. No one really paid him much attention as Akira became all important. He always needed something—food, diapers, water, milk, comfort. Yu would sometimes peer through the bars of the crib at the thick curly hair and scowl, but Akira only stared back at him with bright eyes.

After a while, he started giggling, reaching for Yu with stumpy little fingers. That giggling always made Yu forget why he was upset, at least for a little while, and he’d reach a finger through the bars so Akira could grasp at it. Most of the time, Yu didn’t mind the slobbery fist.

 

When Akira started crawling, Yu found himself most often being the one making sure Akira didn’t get anywhere near the stairs. Never mind the baby gate or the adult always in the same room; when it came down to actually watching Akira’s every movement, it was Yu’s job.

Yu didn’t mind it at all though. It felt like they finally trusted him with something, or in this case, someone. Big Brother was a title that carried a lot of responsibility, and Yu carried it enthusiastically.

 

On Akira’s first birthday, they held a large party. Mother’s and Mr. Nao’s friends all came over, and the house was crowded. Yu made sure to stick by Akira diligently, though for once he wasn’t needed. Someone was always holding him, carrying him somewhere. But Yu made sure to never let him out of sight.

Right after Akira’s usual dinnertime, everyone gathered into the kitchen. The room wasn’t quite big enough to hold everyone, but Yu was small enough to be able to squeeze through their legs, taking his rightful place in the chair to the right of Akira’s baby seat. Akira’s cake was big, the biggest cake Yu had ever seen. For such a large cake, there was only one candle placed on it: a sparkly number one.

Akira didn’t understand what was going on, as he was too young to know what birthdays were or how they worked, so Yu took the responsibility of blowing out the candle for him after everyone sang.

When he closed his eyes and puffed, everyone clapping around them, he could almost pretend they were celebrating his birthday, which was coming up in a few weeks.

 

On Yu’s birthday, he spent the day watching mother and Mr. Nao croon over Akira as he took his first steps.

Yu tried to be the proud older brother, but envy gnawed at his insides, creating a poisonous, burning hole in his gut. It made him feel ugly, to feel this way towards his younger brother who had done nothing wrong.

He spent the rest of the day after that hiding away in his small room.

* * *

 

Yu didn’t like it when mother and Mr. Nao yelled at each other. It had been happening more and more frequently, sometimes even right in the middle of dinner. When it happened in front of him, he’d take Akira by the hand and lead him away into one of their bedrooms, shutting the door and curling up against it while Akira played. Yu’s room was full of Akira’s toys, and he’d made a habit of keeping his stuff out of his brother’s reach.

Sometimes, when their yelling got too loud, Akira started crying, even in the bedroom. Usually, it was a small, stifled whimper and big round eyes bright with tears. Yu would bundle him up on the bed and hold him until he stopped crying or he fell asleep, whichever came first. Once, they had started fighting right in front of Akira’s room. Yu had tried to take him into his room, but Akira had started screaming, hot fat tears streaming down his face. It was the only time they stopped.

They had started again in the living room, that day, not long before Akira’s bedtime. As always, Yu grabbed Akira’s hand, leading him away and up the stairs into the younger boy’s bedroom, shutting the door behind him. Akira ambled into the room for a moment before deciding he wanted to play with his red and yellow teddy, tugging at its single blue ear.

Yu tucked his knees into his chest, back flush against the door as he watched his brother.

They were particularly loud today, though for once Akira seemed okay with it.

“Well maybe I’m better off without you! Because you goddamn men don’t seem to have any qualms about leaving when I’m not good enough anymore!”

“That’s not what I’m saying! Maybe if you weren’t being such a bitch, you would understand that!”

Yu pressed his palms over his ears, trying in vain to block the sound of their screaming.

“You’re no better than he was! Both of you, leaving me alone with nothing but your son!”

“If that’s how you feel than I won’t do it!”

Yu squeezed his eyes shut, buried his face in his knees.

“You’re already doing it!”

“I—No, you know what? That’s _it_! I’m filing for a divorce! And I’m taking Akira with me!”

There was the sound of a door slamming shut, loud enough that Yu flinched at the bang. Akira had waddled over to him, still clutching the multicolored (and wholly unrealistic) teddy in one hand. The other hand reached for Yu, his bright gray eyes leaking tears and his nose filled with quiet sniffling.

Yu slowly unwound his body from its previous position, tight as a coiled spring, and pulled his baby brother to him, wrapping the smaller boy in a gentle, but tight embrace.

From behind the door, Yu heard his mother’s voice. “Put Akira to bed for me, Yu.”

She did not say “goodnight”; not even “I love you”.

Yu buried his face in the fabric of Akira’s shirt and shut the world out.

* * *

 

Right away, Yu had a feeling his newest “dad” would be different.

Mr. Shuuji made mother smile and laugh and act in ways not even Mr. Nao could do. He remembered everything she liked and disliked. And most importantly, unlike the other dads, he stayed far away from mother’s bedroom. Mother seemed to like him better too, and they often talked about marriage (never about children).

Yu wasn’t sure how to feel about him.

When Mr. Shuuji was around, Yu was unimportant. Mother liked to go out to eat dinner with Mr. Shuuji, telling him to keep the door locked instead of saying goodbye. More and more frequently, she had been forgetting to feed him dinner. She’d taken to slapping a few bills on the counter and telling him to order whatever he wanted.

Yu was good at ordering food, even if the deliveryman didn’t seem comfortable with it. He was old enough to make himself a sandwich, and he knew how to make instant ramen. But more often than not, he just snacked.

He suspected the old lady next door knew, because she was always stopping by to give him homemade pies and cakes. Sometimes, Yu felt he saw her more than mother.

 

On the nights that mother didn’t come home at all, Yu sat in Akira’s bedroom. Akira wasn’t there anymore, hadn’t been since Mr. Nao took him away, but his existence was still evident in the crib that hadn’t been taken out, and in the few toys that had been left behind.

He wrote letters on those nights. Short ones, usually, asking Mr. Nao how Akira was and telling him about his day. But he never sent them. He didn’t know Mr. Nao’s home address and mother would never give it to him, even if she knew. So they piled up in a little box in Akira’s bedroom, folded up and placed in gingerly.

 

In a few more years, all Yu would remember of his baby brother were bright eyes and a small hand gripping his finger.

* * *

 

It was dad that told Yu he had cousins. He said they were on mother’s side, not his, and that Yu had the right to meet them if he wanted to.

Mother didn’t want to go at first, but dad convinced her, and they took a trip to a city called Tatsumi Port Island. It was the first time they had taken Yu with them on one of their trips, so regardless of why they were going, Yu was happy.

 

Aunt Miho and Uncle Hayate were nice people. They smiled and hugged Yu and listened whenever he spoke. They told him not to be so polite—they were family—despite what mother always said about being a good boy.

Aunt Miho was quiet, and graceful like mother, but with a different kind of grace. Mother was like a queen, and people listened to her; Aunt Miho was more like a fairy, kind and ethereal with a beauty all its own. Where mother wore expensive jewelry and stuff that made her lips ruby red, Aunt Miho didn’t make herself look fancy, but had a smile that lit up a room. They were completely different people, and Yu had a hard time believing they were sisters. He wondered briefly if he and Akira were that different, but didn’t dwell on the thought for very long.

Uncle Hayate, compared to his wife, spoke in a loud voice and liked to move his body a lot when he spoke. If he was sad or mad or happy, his face seemed to twist into a whole new expression that Yu didn’t think was possible. When he laughed, it was hard and long and other people liked to join in. He wore a lot of plaid shirts and had a bit of stubble that Aunt Miho rubbed when they were smiling at each other.

Their children were two years older than Yu. Dad called them twins; he said they were born at the same time. Yu was shooed off to play with them when the adults wanted to have a Grown Up Conversation.

Hamuko was like her father, in that she laughed loud and long and was always talking. She had her mother’s smile, which brightened everything up. She dragged him outside, even if it was raining, running around and pushing him in the dirt and teaching him how to do cartwheels. Unlike other girls he knew, she didn’t make him sit down for tea or play house, but preferred games like Cops and Robbers or Hide and Seek Tag.

Minato, on the other hand, was more like their mother. He was quiet, on most occasions, emphasized even more so by the sharp contrast of his sister’s personality. He preferred to play video games in the play room rather than run around outside with Hamuko and Yu. When it was raining or if Yu didn’t want to go outside, which was often, he sat with Minato in the play room. Sometimes he read, but in most cases he watched Minato play games. After a while, Minato handed him a second controller to play with.

When Hamuko got bored of playing on her own, she would join them, playing board games or video games with them. Sometimes she played a handheld, or just watched.

After that first time—they spent weeks there, staying in that house with that family—they visited often. Compared to the first time, mother was now the one instigating the trips. Dad told him that it was because mother and Aunt Miho weren’t fighting anymore; Yu was never told what they were fighting about.

After the third visit, Minato started teaching Yu how to play the violin. Yu had found him playing in his bedroom, and he’d fallen in love with the instrument since. It took days of pleading to convince Minato to teach him before the older boy conceded. Yu had spent two hours just learning how to hold it, because his cousin didn’t trust him with the bow yet.

Hamuko, after hearing about, insisted that she wanted to join in too. But rather than learn the violin (or teach it to Yu), she had brought in a trumpet, handed it to the youngest of the trio, and told him to blow. In retrospect, Minato had been a much better teacher than his sister.

Yu told them about Akira, their other cousin. Hamuko was always asking questions, some Yu couldn’t answer (even he didn’t know how Akira was doing, or if he was even alive), while Minato just listened. Sometimes, Yu preferred telling Minato, if just because the boy was a comforting presence in a way that his sister wasn’t. Other times, when Yu needed to fill that suffocating silence, he stuck by Hamuko; she always had something to say, something to do. Yu forgot to even think when she was around.

* * *

 

It hadn’t even been six months since Mr. Nao left that Yu and mother stayed with Aunt Miho and Uncle Hayate for a week over the summer. Dad was on a business trip, and it was just the two of them when mother decided their time was better spent away from the big city.

They had been staying there for only two days.

Hamuko’s ponytail bounced around on her head as she pulled her brother towards the back door, Yu trailing behind them. The two of them had concocted a plan that consisted of getting Minato outside and away from his electronics, though he had kept a death grip on his mp3 player, even if he didn’t have headphones. It was brand new; he’d gotten it for his birthday, and it hadn’t gone out of sight since.

They had just jumped off the last two steps of the staircase when they first heard the yelling from the kitchen. Uncle Hayate’s voice was only an undercurrent, a calm rumbling voice that went unheard. Aunt Miho and mother were screaming at each other; Yu couldn’t understand them, only understood that they were angry.

The three of them peeked into the kitchen where the adults were, not willing to walk into such a volatile situation, seeing Aunt Miho and mother red-faced as they stood each other down, Uncle Hayate between them. He had fallen silent, looking at the three children.

His notice was enough to alert the women, and mother piercing gray eyes whirled, landing on Yu with such a furious intensity that he shrunk into himself, leaning closer to Hamuko and Minato. Mother spat one last remark to Aunt Miho, stalking towards Yu. He shrunk back further; he didn’t think she was mad at him, but with the way she looked, he wasn’t sure.

“Yu, come on. We’re leaving.” He didn’t want to leave, wanted to stay here where he had other kids to play with and where mother was nice and smiled a lot, but her eyes spoke fury and her words demanded obedience as she grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the kitchen, out of the door, out of that house.

That last glance back before the door slammed shut was the last he saw of his cousins.

* * *

 

The next time he heard anything about the Arisato family, was when he walked into the living room to see mother sobbing. He asked her what happened, but she was buried into dad’s chest, and dad gave him a sad look.

“Remember that suit I gave you? The black one? Go set it out.”

 

Yu didn’t understand what a funeral was until he saw the grave. He froze, unmoving, and couldn’t understand, because Aunt Miho and Uncle Hayate’s names were on there. He didn’t see any Minato or Hamuko, but if they were alive they should be there, with him and alive, but they weren’t. He clutched onto mother’s hand almost as tightly as she was holding his.

After the funeral, mother pulled him around as she went and spoke to people who conveyed their grief. In particular, Yu remembered a man mother called Arata.

“What will happen to their children?” Mother’s voice was still thick with tears, and as Yu gazed up at them, the old man she was talking to grimaced.

“They’ll be staying with their next of kin. Hayate’s brother has already agreed to take them in.”

“But what about me? Shouldn’t I get a say in what happens to them?! Miho was my sister!”

Mother became increasingly upset, her grip on Yu’s hand starting to hurt, until dad came with two other people in tow. The old man left, and mother hugged the man with dad. Yu didn’t understand who this was, or if he was replacing dad, until the woman crouched down with a sad but nice smile.

“Hello, Yu. I’m your Aunt Chisato, and that’s your Uncle Dojima. I’m sorry we have to meet under these circumstances.”

Yu asked if they had children. They didn’t.

 

He didn’t see them after that, until they faded into a hazy memory, and then nothingness altogether.

* * *

 

After the funeral, mother became distant. She got a new job, even though they didn’t need to money, and as Yu grew older, with every year he saw them less and less.

At the age of seven he made his first egg, burnt as it was. After spending three hours cleaning the pan, he decided studying up on cookbooks was a better alternative first.

It wasn’t until he was nine that he tried again. He had a sizable collection of cookbooks, how-to books, and recipes from the old lady next door, and he wanted to try making pancakes. Mother and dad were supposed to come home in a week, and he wanted to welcome them back with the best pancakes they’d ever eaten.

They came back three days later with an armful of boxes, and told Yu that whatever he could put in those boxes he could keep. They filled the first box for him, with clothes and toiletries and books they thought were useful.

Yu filled the next box with more books, along with some of his journals and a book of crossword puzzles.

The third box he filled with more clothes, hiding in between the shirts the violin case he got from Minato and Hamuko.

The last box he filled with Akira’s things. All the letters and the few leftover toys he knew to be Akira’s favorites, and the blanket that they had wrapped him up in when they took him home from the hospital.

Everything else was left behind, along with the house that he’d resided in for nine years.

 

Yu never quite unpacked after that, unsure of how long he would stay in the next house, and the next, and the next.

* * *

 

The highlights of Yu’s life were the monthly letters he got from Mr. Nao. For his eighth birthday he had begged to have some form of contact with Akira. It was dad that convinced mother to find out Mr. Nao’s current address, and Yu had spent days creating that first letter to send.

Mr. Nao told Yu that they shouldn’t keep contact. He and Akira would never meet and he didn’t want either of them to go through that pain. It was better if Yu just forgot.

Yu had been sent to tears by that letter, but found the courage nonetheless to respond. Even if Akira would never know he existed, he wanted to know, wanted to remember.

It was the second letter that Yu got his first picture. Akira had grown, only three years old but already running around the house. The picture he had received was from Akira’s third birthday, a little boy with thick black hair and dark gray eyes that were still somehow just as bright. He was covered in cake, from the fists full of pastry to the frosting-covered face, grinning with a mouth full of baby teeth.

Yu cried again after receiving that letter, but for a completely different reason than the first.

Without fail, he made sure to send Mr. Nao the new address every time he moved houses, and he kept all his photos of Akira tucked into the pages of his favorite book.

His days were spent primarily studying, thinking of his next letter from the Kurusu family, and practicing the violin. His parents still didn’t know about it—if they did, they would probably throw it out or pawn it off to the nearest shop—but it was his only connection to Minato and Hamuko, and like the pictures, it was precious, hidden from anything that may taint it.

* * *

 

Inaba was a tiny town; one likely not even on the map, but there was a peacefulness that Yu relished, a change from the stress of both the city and his way of living. He didn’t remember Uncle Dojima, but he didn’t think he was likely to forget, between him and Nanako, whose smile lit up the way Hamuko’s did, bright and chasing away the darkness.

Of course, peace didn’t last long when people are being murdered by TVs. It was an utterly ridiculous notion, but one that Yu found himself embroiled in nonetheless.

The empty days spent passing by through hours of homework and studying and learning new cooking recipes were replaced with the rush of clubs and part-time jobs and murder investigations and the first real friends he’d ever had. It was a chaotic rush, interrupted only by the time he set aside for Nanako, but it was a welcome one, and Yu was happier than he’d been for a long, long time.

He remembered the first time Izanagi had appeared, when he and Yosuke had been searching for Konishi Saki. It was surprising, but oddly comforting. There was just something _right_ about it, like he’d had something returned to him without ever knowing it was missing.

“Woah, dude, you’re just like the SEES team!” Yosuke’s voice had been the instigator of everything that followed, with just that comment.

Everyone knew about SEES. They were the first so-called “Superheroes” in Japan. There had been others, but they were myths, rumors at best. SEES were the first to get publicity, if the rumors were to be believed. Superheroes, known as Persona Users—they couldn’t really be compared to comic book characters, when they were still very human—with the ability to summon Personas. No one really knew what Personas were, exactly.

That is, until that day.

_I am thou… thou art I…_

They hadn’t really gone in with the intention of being heroes or helping people, not at first. They just wanted to save their friends, save their town.

It wasn’t until they met Rise that she brought up the idea.

“A superhero group?” Yosuke was just flabbergasted, though he did seem just a bit excited.

“I don’t know…” Yukiko cringed at the thought.

“Well, I mean, haven’t you guys thought about what you’re going to do after this is all over?”

That had gotten their attention, and no one really had an answer to that. (Yu avoided thinking about it; he didn’t want any reminder about the end of the year, which was approaching far too rapidly for his liking. Every school was the same; in and out, painless if he just stuck to his books. But Inaba was different.)

In the end, she had somehow convinced them, and Kanji had been tasked with making costumes. They’d then proceeded to spend the next hour arguing over a name, but no one could agree on anything other than the Investigation Team.

They ultimately decided just to leave it up to the public. Rise hadn’t been very happy about that, but she didn’t say anything.

* * *

 

When he first realized that Nanako was gone, Yu had collapsed where he stood, knees giving out on him as the world tilted at a dangerous angle. He took a breath, but his lungs were tight and he couldn’t get air in and _oh god Nanako was gone._

It wasn’t until Izanagi’s whispers broke through the haze of panic that he could think straight.

His hands were shaking so hard he could barely hold his phone, much less dial in the right number. Izanagi continued to be a comforting presence in his mind, one that was desperately needed.

That had been his first panic attack.

* * *

 

The second time was on the train.

It had been delayed, Inaba’s small town and expansive surroundings already out of sight by the time he realized his hands were shaking uncontrollably. The overwhelming realization that he was alone caused the air to whoosh from his lungs, and Yu keeled over in an attempt to calm the feeling like the world was pulling away from him. Everything was blurred, unfocused, and he felt lightheaded as his hands shakily gripped the edge of the seat.

Yu was gasping, at a loss for air, and Izanagi pulled him back from the edge. The edge of what, he didn’t want to find out.

His hands were still shaking as he dug into his duffel bag and pulled out his favorite book. Akira’s photos were still tucked in there, but in addition to those, pictures of the Team and Nanako and Dojima had been added in there.

Yu pulled out the most recent photo of his brother, barely able to keep himself from dropping it.

Akira was already twelve, a soft-spoken, but cheeky boy with thick curly hair and dark eyes that defied their color with a brightness befitting his name. Mr. Nao never said much in his letters, but Yu could always tell as much from the pictures alone. The picture of him was a candid one, the preteen completely focused on what looked to be a crossword puzzle. The sight made Yu’s heart soar.

He’d sent in the little book of crosswords along with his letter a few years ago, asking Mr. Nao to give it to Akira. It didn’t matter if Akira knew it was from him or not; he just wanted to get something for his birthday, at least once.

Mr. Nao never said much in his letters, aside from pleasantries and the most basic of explanations to say Akira was okay, that he was happy. But he still cared about Yu, at least a little, and it showed in his photos. Little things like the crosswords that spoke all the words he never said.

* * *

 

He knew he’d be going to Tokyo University. It was something that had been decided for him, the same way his major was. Although, if Yu were being honest, it’s not like he himself knew what he wanted to do. Of course, with all the expectations laid upon him, the last thing Yu expected was to see the Investigation Team there as well.

Before he knew it, he’d been dragged to a large table at a food court, everyone babbling around him excitedly.

Yosuke and Yukiko were going to join him at Todai, Chie and Naoto both were planning to attend a nearby police academy, and Kanji was interning under a local designer. Rise was back in her idol work, though she was thinking about picking up a degree as well, and Teddie was… well, Teddie was just there to visit, for the moment. 

Yosuke had immediately gotten the two of them a dorm together, with Yukiko in the same building just a few floors away (Yosuke had insisted on a co-ed). They were all in vastly different majors, what with Yosuke heading into music and Yukiko looking at business and hotel management, but some of the required basic classes (and perhaps a few extracurriculars) they’d do together, and everyone was insistent on maintaining a free Sunday to get together.

It was, ultimately, like the old times in Inaba again, only with the added joys of watching each other get very, very drunk.

* * *

 

Yu didn’t even realize it at first when the letters stopped coming.

University was tasking and arduous, and he spent most of his free time hanging out with the others or attending clubs or his job. It’d been a few months since they discovered Mementos, and since then Yu and the others became heroes in earnest, after a long and tense discussion.

Shadows appeared frequently in a place as large as Tokyo, and they went out nearly every night. The public had caught wind of them, but for the most part it was rumors that floated around about another SEES. While (Yu didn’t mind being compared to them, it wasn’t like they were actually associated with SEES, so it seemed horribly inaccurate.)

When he realized the next letter hadn’t come in, he panicked. Akira was supposed to start his second year at high school in the next month, and if Yu was being paranoid because of his own experiences in his second year, he couldn’t really be blamed.

His attack had been right in the middle of exams, and a classmate had to stop in the middle of their own to help him to the infirmary. It lasted only half an hour before he calmed down enough to go back to his dorm and write his own letter.

A reply didn’t come for another two months. No photo, no update on how he was doing, only a single sentence.

_Akira was arrested for assault._

Yu stopped breathing. It felt as if his heart had physically stopped beating in his chest, and his vision became dark, threatening to disappear entirely. It was Yosuke’s hand grabbing his shoulder that kept him grounded in reality, in the present moment.

“Dude, are you okay? What happened?”

Yu didn’t say anything; couldn’t say anything. He handed Yosuke the letter with trembling hands, gasping as he tried to get air into his constricting lungs before he passed out.

There wasn’t a word either of them could say, and they knew it. But Yu was grateful for his best friend’s presence, never too far for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For your information, Todai is like a nickname for Tokyo U.  
> But uuuugggghhhh I’m so excited for this in case you can’t tell. Not all the chapters are going to be this long; this was mainly just a prologue that is basically just Yu’s life story. The chapters will go back and forth between Akira’s and Yu’s POV because why not.  
> Updates will probably be really irregular, so I apologize for that ahead of time.
> 
> Otherwise hey! Thoughts? Comments?  
> Pairings are undecided. What's your vote?


	2. in remembrance of me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why am I always chasing after  
> stars out of reach in the sky?  
> When my wings are broken and useless,  
> and I don’t even know how to fly?
> 
> Why do I stare at the heavens  
> and wish for angels in the clouds?  
> When I’m trapped on the cold earth  
> and rooted firm in the desolate ground?
> 
> What would the galaxies want  
> with a wandering soul in the dark?  
> when there are comets amongst the planets,  
> that leave sparkling trails in their hearts?
> 
> I’ll cut out a sail from my dreams,  
> and crash my cracked ship in the sea.  
> I doubt there’ll be any stars in heaven  
> that will shine in remembrance of me.”
> 
> ~Wishing Stars, by vivavegas1988

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uuuugghhhh how do these even get this long? Jesus Buddha.

Akira rolled out of bed to avoid Morgana’s loud and obnoxious voice, landing on the floor of the attic with a thud. He groaned, fumbling to put his feet under him. He’d never been much of a morning person, and it had only gotten worse since this phantom thief thing had begun. All the late nights were slowly racking up a toll.

He managed to push his mop out of his eyes, which widened upon seeing the old clock.

Morgana snorted from where he sat atop the bed as he watched Akira hopping around while trying to pull on a pair of pants. Akira glared at him half-heartedly. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I _tried_. Or were you too asleep to hear me?” He sounded smug, and for a moment Akira debated leaving him behind, but he let the cat hop into his bag nonetheless as he ran down the stairs, barely listening to Sojiro’s half-shouted lecture on his way out. Something along the lines of not causing trouble, as usual.

He barely managed to catch the next train—had he missed it, he would’ve been late for sure—squeezing through the doors as they closed.

Ryuji was texting him; today was supposed to be the day they sent their “calling card”. Akira still had a hard time believing this was even a thing. Phantom thieves…?

Although, he had to admit, it was pretty cool. Even if he was sure he was going to be arrested for this is they got caught. Not that expulsion wasn’t already a threat as it was.

Morgana’s head hovered over his shoulder, absently reading the texts as he scrolled up to last night’s conversation.

“…He better not screw this up.” Akira snorted, but he wasn’t too worried. He trusted Ryuji.

* * *

 

_Sir Kamoshida Suguru,  
the utter bastard of lust._

_We know how shitty you are, and that you put your twisted desires on students that can’t fight back.  
That’s why we have decided to steal away those desires and make you confess your sins._

_This will be done tomorrow, so we hope you will be ready._

_From,  
the Phantom Thieves of Hearts_

The school was buzzing with questions, and Ryuji practically glowed with pride and excitement, even despite Ann and Morgana’s jabs.

His grin fell as Kamoshida stalked through the halls, glaring at and accusing the nearest student. The teacher’s dark gaze fell on them, and Ryuji’s grin morphed into a smirk. Akira’s own lip twitched.

“Were you the ones behind this?” His face was morphed from his fury, but after a moment it twisted into a smug look as he gazed down at them. “No matter. You’ll be expelled soon enough, anyways.”

He left with his head significantly higher than it had been before, and Ann scoffed.

 

After a brief explanation by Morgana, they shared a look. They were ready; no more waiting.

* * *

 

The underworld of society, known as Mementos for its frequent visitors, was a strange place with a variety of entrances all over the city. Shadows dwelled there; hordes of them occupying the lower levels of the seemingly endless labyrinth.

With the Nav, they were able to enter at any time, and it was a good place to train or gather information. It was also their way to access the Palaces.

Hence the reason they were seated in the very strange space that was the inside of Morgana’s bus form, and the cat bus reference to Totoro was so amusing that every time he (somehow) ended up in the driver’s seat, Akira had to bite down hard on the inside skin of his cheek to keep the laughter in.

It was things like this that made him wonder if he shouldn’t pick up an actual stray cat and see what would happen if he brought it into Mementos. It probably wasn’t a good idea.

Akira swerved around another pillar, still not particularly used to driving a vehicle outside of an arcade. There weren’t a lot of shadows around, for whatever reason. It made him paranoid.

“What time is it?” He asked, somewhat distractedly, making a turn that was slightly too sharp, narrowly avoiding the wall at the end of the curve. No one said anything about his driving skills, aside from Morgana’s occasional grumbling.

“Uh, almost eight. Why?” Ann was the one who answered, her and Ryuji giving him weird looks.

He let out a slow breath, knowing they deserved to know, knowing any unsaid thought in Mementos could be dangerous. “There’s not a lot of shadows out tonight.”

They both looked around, even Morgana making a grunt in acknowledgment. “Maybe they’re all in the Palace?” Ryuji suggested, but Morgana didn’t sound convinced, putting his own theory out there.

“Or maybe something else down here is attracting them.”

Akira didn’t dwell on that thought (what was _that_ supposed to mean anyway? He didn’t even want to think about what _else_ could be down there with them) and they found themselves very quickly in front of the red and black shifting portal that indicated the entrance.

He took a deep breath— _they’d already been in the castle before, already knew the layout, knew where the treasure was; there was no reason for him to be anxious—aside from the knowledge that everything was on high alert for_ them _waiting and searching for_ them—and led the way inside.

 

 

Shadows were prowling everywhere in their knight façade, eyes sweeping the castle grounds as Akira slinked through the entrance, keeping to the shadows. The rest of the Phantoms followed not far behind, and he led them through floors and floors of shadow-infested halls, ambushing any one that got too close for his liking.

Personas were an infinitely useful ability, particularly when one was able to use multiple. It felt just _right_ , like finding a piece of himself that he hadn’t known existed. There was a comfort there, in knowing that he wasn’t completely alone.

But those weren’t the only kind of “personas” he knew, and as they left the safety of that last empty room before heading towards the treasure room, Joker slipped fully into place, his cocky manner and easy movements relaxing the previous tension in his body.

The doors were wide open, and Joker frowned, but only momentarily, darting around the sides— _just in case_ —and pushing open the smaller door that revealed the obnoxiously large crown floating in the air.

“Aw yeah~! The treasure has appeared!” Morgana grinned up at it.

“Man, it’s huge!”

Morgana seemed almost obnoxiously proud of the way Ryuji stared up at it, wide-eyed.

“What do you think?! It’s just as I said! Now we can steal it!” Joker felt something was slightly off, even as the others marveled at their find. “Ahh… This shine brings tears to my eyes…”

Ann crossed her arms, frowning. “…It kinda pisses me off.”

Their conversation continued as Joker checked out of it, closing his eyes and spreading out his third sense. There didn’t appear to be an ambush waiting for them, but he couldn’t be sure. Shadows had another way of moving after all.

He opened his eyes to Morgana’s regression in his evolution, leaping onto the crown and rubbing against it.

…Apparently Treasures were the equivalent of catnip for Morgana. He was a strange cat indeed.

Morgana having been retrieved, they turned back to the job.

“How the hell are we supposed to steal this thing?” Ryuji asked, scowling at the crown as if he could will it to shrink.

“Do you think it will fit in the cat bus?” Morgana turned to Akira, aghast. He didn’t see what the problem was.

“Absolutely not!” He huffed, but broke into a grin right after. The feeling was contagious; they really were going to steal someone’s heart… “Now c’mon! You guys need to carry it out!”

Even Ryuji didn’t complain too much as they lugged it out the door and down the steps, back into the vast throne room. Everyone was on a high, and for a few moments, it really felt like they were going to do it.

“Did you think I’d just let you get away?”

That voice sent chills down his spine, and the weight of the crown disappeared as it flew from their hands at the weight of a signature spike, and Kamoshida’s twisted grin leered down at them. The crown was much smaller in his hands—and a brief thought had Akira wondering how come he didn’t have to lug such a big thing around—but then that twisted grin transformed into a scowl as he held his Treasure.

“This proves that I am the king of this castle. I won’t let you take it from me!”

Ann’s fury escaped her control.

“That’s right! I’m nothing like you! **I’m a demon who rules this world!** ”

“Look out!”

Joker jumped, rolling to a landing and narrowly avoiding the slimy tongue that broke the floor where he stood only moments before. What was once Kamoshida’s Shadow was now a true demon, horns curling out of his head, Treasure nestled between them. He tried his best to keep his eyes away from… certain areas, lest he be sick.

He was about to fight a monster, and despite their name, he felt oddly like a superhero.

Joker called on Arsène, and Asmodeus roared in pain, head whipping back before it turned back to them, and he snarled, golden knife making a neat slit in the stone. Captain Kidd and Zorro drew the creature’s attention away, giving him time to jump back and draw his dagger and gun.

He’d tried only one or the other, initially, but it just seemed _right_ to hold both, as if he was holding two little pieces of his soul with him.

“It’s now or never!” The resident cat hissed, and Joker nodded as he leapt out of the battle, skirting around the edge of the room and leaping atop one of the statues. He ducked out of sight as Asmodeus’ head whirled around, large mad eyes glaring at them.

Carmen attacked, whip catching him in one of the eyes. Asmodeus screeched, one of his several hands dropping the whip in hand in order to clutch at his eye, now not much more than a broken seal as blood gushed out, the soft interior of the eye leaking out from the cut before a hand kept it from escaping any further.

“Don’t give him a chance to recover!”

Kidd and Arsène leapt out, joined by Skull’s shotgun and Joker’s own handgun. Asmodeus lashed out once more, and they dodged a series of fiery volleys as Ann snapped at his feet with her whip.

“ **That’s it! I’m going to _destroy you_ until nothing else remains!** ”

A sense of exhilaration accompanied the adrenaline already flowing through his veins, and Joker twisted out of the way, his already natural flexibility only getting more versatile through the ridiculous maneuvers he had to perform in Mementos. If a laugh escaped his lips as he dodged another volley, no one mentioned anything.

“ **I’ll kill you!** ” Asmodeus hissed again, and this time it was Skull laughing, though this time more out of satire and derisiveness than any sort of actual enjoyment.

“Maybe if you stopped saying that and actually did it, I’d believe you!” The golden knife swiped at him again, and Skull—for all his taunting—barely managed to get out of the way in time, stumbling as he moved.

Joker kept Asmodeus from trying a second strike by attempting to take out the second eye.

The demon roared again, glaring furiously down at them.

“ **Hey, wasn’t there another one of you? Where the hell did the last one go?!** ” Joker panicked only briefly before a very familiar feline let out a cackle.

“Too late now! It’s check and mate!” Morgana leapt, his flying kick knocking off the Treasure seated atop Asmodeus’ head.

“ ** _NO!_** ”

“Now!” Joker led the way, one hand on his gun and the other gripping his dagger, sprinting forward and slashing out at the demon before him.

He knew the others weren’t far behind him, and he slashed into the demon’s skin, fingers brushing the skin from where he wielded the dagger in a white-knuckled grip—

* * *

 

_“We have high expectations for you.” The older man smiled at him, genial and proud._

_His coach clapped him on the back before leaving the gym. He stood there, still stunned._

_An Olympic medalist…_ Him, _an Olympic medalist. His hard work, everything, it was finally paying off. He was so close now; so close to finally holding his dream in his own two hands. He could do it…!_

_“I know you’ll do great, Suguru.” A kindly woman, frail and thin in the harsh lighting of a hospital room._

_Both her hands encased his own, a gentle, gentle touch that caressed his calloused palms in a kind of wonder only a mother could hold. Her fingers were trembling, always trembling._

_He remembered a time when those same hands were strong and firm._

_The hands grew weaker, but her eyes grew brighter, and she smiled with the last of her energy. The steady beeping of the machinery sped up and up and up until it flat lined, and those hands were holding his no longer._

_He remembered a time when those hands encased his and showed him how to hold a ball for the first time._

_“That’s my boy! You’re going to be competing on the world stage someday!” Strong, steady hands ruffling his hair, a proud grin breaking out from behind the scratchy stubble._

_He grinned, chest puffing out as he looked at the little trophy in his hands. His first tournament, his first big win, his first title. MVP…_

_He wondered, if he got more titles, if that grin would stay. If he got more titles, father would have no more reason to be angry. He wouldn’t be a loser anymore; he’d be a winner. He’d always be a winner._

_He watched as the ball bounced against the waxed floors, once, twice, three times. It rolled, slower and slower until it touched the wall, turned back a few feet, and stopped._

_Everything around him had stopped with the ball, frozen. He couldn’t quite understand what had just happened. Why was the ball over there? No, just a moment ago, they had been yelling at each other, assuring they had it, encouraging one another… Just a moment ago, they were winning. What had happened?_

_The silence—that moment frozen in time, the calm before the storm—was broken by the sound of the referee’s whistle, and suddenly everything around him was roaring. It was deafening, a thunderous clap that continued on and on._

_He continued staring at the volleyball, willing it to move, and waiting. Waiting for someone to pick it up and start again, even as his teammates slumped with dragging feet off the court, some already in tears._

_“You’re through when you lose.”_

* * *

 

Gasping, Akira jerked back, but the others didn’t notice as they finished off their enemy with that last All-Out.

Asmodeus collapsed, skin melting off him and into the ground, and all that was left in his place was Kamoshida’s Shadow, still dressed in that obnoxious outfit. He clutched his Treasure pitifully, the look upon his face begging for forgiveness, but only serving to further anger two members of the Phantom Thieves.

Shaking away the haze of confusion and tucking the instance away for the moment, Joker observed his teammates as they looked upon the sad sap before them. He eyed Ann in particular, her fist gripping her whip so tightly he was sure that without it, her nails would’ve been digging into her skin.

Joker glanced at Skull beside him, the two nodding subtly in agreement. They trusted Ann to handle this. She deserved the chance to.

Of course, he nearly regretted that action when Carmen sent her own fireball in the Shadow’s direction. Nearly.

“If his mind shuts down, he can’t admit his crimes.” Despite her words, she didn’t sound very happy about it, jaw still clenched and face twisted with an expression unbecoming of her.

Morgana didn’t seem to care either way, crossing his paws. “You’re kind, Lady Ann…”

* * *

 

They came back just in time for Akira’s curfew, and he slipped in the door of Café Leblanc just a couple minutes before, earning a look from Sojiro but nothing more as the man locked up for the night, reminding him not to cause any trouble.

Both he and Morgana were exhausted, and while there was the calm in the wake of all the excitement and _actually stealing someone’s heart, what the actual hell_ , but there was still the tense waiting of whether or not Kamoshida would actually have a change of heart, or if he would end up braindead in an alley somewhere, or—even worse—if nothing would change at all, and they’d end up expelled.

Akira trudged up to his room, not even changing out of his uniform as he dumped his shoes and bag—Morgana barely escaping a painful drop—and collapsing onto his bed. His glasses fell askew as his head hit the mattress, and the medal dug into his hip from where it sat in his pocket, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He could hear the TV droning from downstairs.

_“And the mystery group… SEES… did it again…!”_

He fell asleep to the nonsensical jumble of syllables and phonemes.

* * *

 

Morgana had gone off somewhere, and Akira had a few hours alone as he lay on his bed, staring listlessly on the ceiling. Eventually, he rolled over, reaching under his bed for the little box. It had been one of the few things of his own that he’d been allowed to bring with him (well, perhaps he shouldn’t say “allowed”), but it lay gathering dust.

He placed it with an unusual amount of gentleness before him on the sheets, pulling off the lid to stare at the letters within.

Akira remembered when he found out, the first time. He’d always known dad had some sort of pen pal, knew he sent photos and corresponded on a regular basis. It’d been fine before, hadn’t really ever bothered him. It wasn’t until Yoshiko came along that Akira really noticed. The letters didn’t cease, despite Yoshiko’s obvious disdain for it. His stepmom was controlling at best, and normally dad listened to her requests.

Dad never actually told him though. He’d tried asking once, sure, but all he’d gotten was a sad look and a change of subject.

Really, Akira should feel bad about stealing the box of letters, but somehow he couldn’t bring himself to. Not when his own father had hidden something like this from him.

Akira picked up a letter at random, noted the flawless lines of the hiragana and the little date in the corner. October 2011.

_Dear Mr. Nao,_

_How is Akira doing? How are you?_

_I’m still in Inaba, with Uncle Dojima and Nanako. I know this may seem inappropriate, but I wanted to ask for your advice._

_I told Nanako that when someone is real family, they love you and are always there when you need them to be. She got in a fight with Uncle Dojima and told him he wasn’t her real father. Was it my fault? I just wanted to make her happy; I didn’t mean to make them fight._

_What should I do?_

_Sincerely,  
Yu_

 

It was one of the shorter letters, but for some reason it stuck with him. _Real family…_

Akira traced the name at the bottom. No surname, and Yu was common enough that it would be next to impossible to search for him. He probably wasn’t even in Inaba anymore. He wondered who this ‘Yu’ was, what he was like. He wondered why he cared about Akira so much as to send all these letters. He desperately wanted to know, but dad wouldn’t tell him.

He didn’t even call to see if Akira was okay.

Akira placed the letter back in the box, picking up another. January 2006. The handwriting was different from the previous letter, but still just as perfect. He wondered if Yu was a lawyer or something.

 

_Dear Mr. Nao,_

_How is Akira?_

_I know his birthday is coming up; my gift for him should be attached to this letter. Tell him happy birthday for me. I hope he likes his gift._

_Does he still have his teddy bear? Has he grown out of it? I have some of his old toys still; the ones that were left behind._

_Mother is still working a lot. I don’t see her very often, but it’s alright. It gives me time to think up some new recipes for the next time she’s home. I’m going to ask her if she’ll stay home for my birthday this year._

_I’ve been practicing the violin in my free time, when I’m not studying. I think I’m getting better. I want Akira to hear a few songs; do you think he would like that? I can record them and put it on a CD you can play. If you’re okay with it, please let me know._

_We’ll be moving again soon. I found out this morning; mother left a note before she went to work. I’m supposed to start packing, but I never really unpacked, to be honest. We’ve only been here for six months. I wrote our next address on the bottom of this letter._

_I hope Akira likes crosswords._

_Sincerely,  
Yu_

Akira blinked, rereading that last line. He had always been a fan of puzzles, and he remembered getting a monster book of crosswords. For the first few years, he couldn’t get past the intermediary level, and he’d forgotten about the book for several years after, until finding it again after cleaning out his room a few years ago. It was a gift without a name; he’d always assumed it was from dad.

It had been left behind when he moved.

The teen had to sit up, away from the box of letters, shaky hand over his face as he tried to steady his breathing. How many other things had he gotten from Yu? How many things that he never spared a second thought about?

He felt immensely guilty, even though he really knew he shouldn’t. He didn’t know who this Yu was supposed to be in relation to him—for all he knew, it could be some crazy stalker.

…But given the content of many of the letters, that didn’t seem very likely.

According to some of the older letters, it seemed likely that Yu was a child during the earlier ones. He might be around Akira’s age, if not a little older or younger.

He picked up another letter; they were in no particular order in the box, shuffled around from the move (and possible being unceremoniously dropped a few times) and he set about making a timeline on his floor, from the earliest letter to the latest.

 

Morgana didn’t say anything when he came back to see Akira amidst a mess of papers, some laid out meticulously while others were piled up in one spot and paper clipped together. He didn’t say anything as he stretched out on the lumpy makeshift bed, watching the haggard teen with sleepy eyes. He didn’t even say anything when he woke up in the middle of the night, stretching, to see Akira still reading intently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just had to give Kamoshida a bit of a background, perhaps a reason as to why he turned out the way he did. I love giving villains backgrounds, and Persona is just so ripe for so many AUs and development and just everything and I love it so much. So yeah. Look forward to more of that with our bosses. :333
> 
> But this is more an intro into the Thieves than anything? There’s already a bit of difference hinted at between this and canon, though I’ll be showcasing the differences more as the story goes on. (Also as I get further into P5.) Also some people had been questioning how much Akira knew about Yu… haha I’m a terrible person.
> 
> (Anyone notice how much psychology and psychoanalysis the Persona series references? I think I’ll be using it myself, so look forward to bits of psychology trivia from here on out!)
> 
> Fun Fact: The Shadow Self, according to Carl Jung, was essentially the dark side of your unconscious which your conscious ego is not aware of. The first step to individuation, (which may or may not correspond with the first step of alchemy) was to “encounter” your Shadow (he called this the “apprentice-piece”). You cannot achieve actualization/individuation/etc. without this step.  
> This remind you of everyone facing their shadows in P4?


	3. we were all made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have inside me the winds, the deserts, the oceans, the stars, and everything created in the universe. We were all made by the same hand, and we have the same soul.” ~Paulo Coelho

“Hey, partner! Did ya see the news last night?” Yosuke grinned, bag dropping onto the table as he slid into the seat next to Yu.

Yu gave him a small smile in greeting. “Yes, about Madarame’s upcoming exhibit, right? I was thinking I wanted to go.”

His partner gave him a sheepish look, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah, I kinda figured.”

“I didn’t realize you were into that kind of thing, Yosuke.”

The sheepish look grew more prominent. “Well, since I didn’t get you anything for your birthday this year, I was thinking these could be like late birthday presents?” Yu raised a brow as Yosuke reached into his bag, pulling out a pair of tickets. “I got an extra one, in case you want to bring someone.”

Yu tried not to seem _too_ excited as he grabbed the tickets, Yosuke laughing at him anyway.

After finishing their first year, Yosuke had transferred to the Tokyo University of the Arts—which Yu felt was more appropriate for what his major anyways—but his partner had insisted on continuing to hang out, and in their second year they’d found a surprisingly cheap apartment right in between the two universities. It wasn’t two far a distance from either, and it was almost absurdly convenient. (Really, though, it was Yosuke’s own decision to follow his own dreams that helped Yu figure out his own; he had switched his major halfway through second year to go into pediatrics.)

A waitress came over at last and as Yosuke ordered, Yu let his gaze drift to the streets just outside the window of the café. The place became the IT’s meetup spot after they all found themselves in Tokyo together. It was relatively convenient for all of them, had some pretty good coffee, and best of all, it was discreet. Sitting on a corner, but not extremely busy or popular, letting them discuss… other things. It helped when Yukiko had gotten a part-time job there. Coffee tasted better when it was free, according to Yosuke. (Or whatever it was in that mug that he called coffee.) Yu was thinking of perhaps getting a job there himself; his internship at the clinic didn’t pay all that much after all…

A group of students passed by, talking to one another in hushed tones. Yu noted the two blondes in the small group with a slight interest, a contrast to the curly black hair of the boy between them. The curly-haired teen glanced up, staring back at Yu with bright, dark gray eyes for only a moment.

Frozen, Yu could only watch as they passed by, someone laughing—but it was impossible, there was no way he could be here.

“Partner? Yu? You okay?” Yosuke’s voice roused him from the near catatonic state he was in, and Yu shook his head. No, there was no way. Besides, he didn’t wear glasses; didn’t need them.

“Yes; sorry, Yosuke, I got lost in thought.” Yosuke rolled his eyes affectionately, before launching back into another conversation, Yu nodding along to show he was listening, occasionally adding in a comment of his own.

They didn’t talk about anything important, meaningless conversation that held all the meaning in the world for Yu. He loved everyone in their tight circle, but it was these one on one times he had with each of them that had him feeling the warmth that made his fingers tingle, the weight in his soul of another Social Link to make him feel a little more complete.

And as they said their goodbyes and parted ways, (at least until that night, considering they were roommates) Yu was distinctly aware of the way he felt like he was glowing. It had been like this since his Social Link had maxed out; every subsequent time he spent time with someone and their maxed out Social Links, he felt he could walk on air.

Even his boss seemed to notice as he stepped into Takemi Medical Clinic, raising a brow but not saying anything.

Wordlessly, Ms. Takemi handed off a clipboard with some data on it for him. After a few months of interning for her, Yu was beginning to understand the way she worked. She didn’t speak too much to him—there were a lot of somewhat fishy things that she didn’t address—but he didn’t particularly mind all that much.

Yu flipped through the medical chart, skimming over it before looking back up with a raised brow. “Is this the latest test on that ‘part-timer’ of yours?” He asked, receiving a look that told him _yes, yes it was._

He remembered the first time he’d heard about her little ‘tests’. He’d been appalled, for her to do such a thing to a high schooler—even if she was already blacklisted amongst the medical community, it didn’t mean she had to make things even worse for herself—but after many assurances that it was ‘completely voluntary’ and that ‘he’d even insisted’ Yu had eventually let it slide. Of course, that didn’t stop him from wondering what could possibly make someone participate in shady experiments.

_Aside from needing the medicine for your night-time jobs._

Yu shook the sardonic thought from his head and returned to his work. If his mind strayed to a head of thick black hair every once in a while, leaving him staring into space, Ms. Takemi didn’t mention it.

* * *

 

Yu barely managed to catch the woman as she collapsed, limp and a little cold in his arms. It wasn’t uncommon, unfortunately, as manifestations of Shadows outside of Mementos was always hard on the body, even during the Dark Hour.

He carried her over to the bench, away from the dark alley they’d found themselves in, setting her down and making sure she was comfortable before dialing the officer’s number at the public phone.

If Yu was being honest, that part was probably one of his favorite things about patrols like this. Some officers were active fans; others got pissed at them for “taking the law into their own hands”. Yet they followed every request.

“Who is this?” The gruff voice was reminiscent of Dojima, and it made Yu smile.

“There’s a woman unconscious on Mita Dori, in front of the Bunsendo Main Store.” He replied, voice metallic from behind the metal mask of Izanagi.

Inspector Sakai growled in a sign that Yu had learned to recognize as annoyance. He resisted the urge to laugh.

“Izanagi,” he spat the name like a curse, “For once, could you actually answer my question?”

Yu’s grin widened, and Chie rolled her eyes a few feet away. “You seem to know perfectly well who I am without my answer.” He heard Naoto sigh somewhere behind him.

Everyone knew of this game of sorts that he had with the Inspector, this back and forth banter that had the Inspector guessing at his identity while Yu danced around the traps. He may be all business when it came to rescuing people, but even he was allowed to have a little fun after.

Inspector Sakai groaned, and there was the sound of a squeaky chair in the background. “I can’t believe I haven’t arrested you yet.” He muttered, no doubt just loud enough for Yu to hear. “I’m on my way. So who do you have with you this time?”

Yu glanced back at his group of the night, all of which looked exasperated, though with a touch of amusement. “Tomoe, Sukuna-Hikona, and Himiko.”

“And let me guess. You’ll be gone by the time I get there.”

“Perhaps.”

The Inspector groaned in annoyance. “If I didn’t owe you, you and your little group would be behind bars by now.” They both knew that wouldn’t be true regardless. Since they arrested Adachi—it still hurt to think of the man he (still) shared a bond with, only to be so utterly betrayed—the public had taken to them, and when a group of heroes moved cities, so did the news. He’d lost count of the times that the police had helped them out in one way or another, even barring his personal calls with Inspector Sakai.

“I may call you again before the night is over.” It seemed like a good thing to note; they weren’t quite done for the night after all. The Inspector cursed him and hung up as Yu bit back a laugh. He turned back to the others.

“If you’re done, senpai, we need to go back to the entrance of Mementos. I’m sensing some activity in that area.” He motioned to Rise to lead the way, watching her white dress trail behind her for only a moment before following.

Every time he was struck by how amazing Kanji’s skill was. The designs were all based off of their Personas—as were their aliases, thanks to the public—but not so much as to impede their movement. With how good his skill was, it was almost dangerous to let him show it off to the public; they could trace back the craftsmanship of their own clothing to Tatsumi Textiles. But it was a waste for Kanji to go unnoticed, and the benefits outweighed the costs. Yu took the risk and had yet to regret it.

 

 

When Rise had said there was “some activity”, she had failed to mention what an understatement that was.

The stairs to the subway was practically nonexistent as shadows reached for the sickly green orb suspended frozen in the sky. The barrier between reality and mentality was weaker during the Dark Hour, and they could see a few motes of darkness escape from the mass out onto the streets.

Luckily, there weren’t any passersby or other innocent bystanders in the area. Those that had been present were coffins, taking one worry away. No one else would be hurt.

“Call for backup.” Yu turned to Rise, all business now, and the words were hardly out of his mouth as she summoned Himiko to reach the others, who were currently scattered throughout Tokyo doing their own thing. It only took a few seconds before she echoed their responses.

“They’re on their way.”

He nodded, but didn’t wait any longer as he rushed the first shadowy blob before it could fully transform, slicing it in half with his blade. Chie and Naoto weren’t far behind, Rise giving them backup as best she could. They managed to catch several shadows off-guard before the first one came crashing down on them with its sword and a _Hama_. Yu barely dodged, Izanagi pulling him out of the way just in time.

The Archangel glowered at them, and Izanagi leveled a _Zio_ in its direction, damaging it and distracting it enough for Chie and Tomoe to deliver the finishing blow.

This went on for some time before Yosuke and Teddie managed to arrive, followed by Kanji and finally Yukiko, all of them leaping into the fray with a battle cry. Yu smiled at his friend’s antics, and lopped off the head of a Bicorn when Rise breathed a loud sigh of relief, echoed by the telepathy link into their heads.

“The Dark Hour’s ending.”

The sickly green moon faded back into its pure white, and what remained of the shadows was quickly dealt with as the barrier strengthened once more, the mass of shadows fading away, leaving only a typical subway behind. The coffins faded from view, leaving people that continued going about their business.

Those still out at the hour jumped upon seeing several costumed people appear from nowhere, and Yosuke gave a young woman a cheeky little wave before he took off in a whirlwind. Yukiko grabbed Chie, letting Konohana Sakuya’s wings unfurl, taking them both into the sky. Naoto followed them, and Kanji and Teddie left at a more leisurely pace, though still eager to get out of there.

“See ya, sensei!”

Yu waved back; it was an unspoken rule that patrol always ended after the Dark Hour, so as to keep up in their regular lives, but Yu never said they couldn’t continue on their own time.

So that was what he did; he suspected Yosuke knew about his late night escapades, (beyond the crazy shit they already did of course) but it never stopped him before.

But it was a quiet night. No shadows, no muggings, not even a scream.

He was just about to call it a night (an hour earlier than usual) when Izanagi sent warnings flashing through his head. Yu leapt to the side, one hand catching himself while the other unsheathed his sword, whirling around to see his attacker.

A cat looked up to him, wide-eyed and frightened. Yu kept in a battle stance for a few moments longer, just in case, casting his awareness out around him as best he could, but there really was just him and the cat. He sighed to himself—maybe those late nights really were catching up to him—sheathing his sword and kneeling down before the cat.

He smiled at it, reaching a gloved hand forward, but it stayed right where it was, unmoving. _Right_. Metal mask. Kind of intimidating.

Yu pulled off the mask and tried again. The cat only stared at him a moment longer, before shaking its head—Yu noticed the yellow collar around its neck; it must have been a runaway—and taking off down the street.

Frowning, the lone hero stood up and replaced the mask over his face. It was strange, really. A cat had never run from him before.

* * *

 

He got home, exhausted and ready to hit the bed and sleep. Only out of habit did he check the little mailbox before heading upstairs, surprised to find only a single envelope within.

Yu picked up the letter with a raised brow. It was addressed to him, but the handwriting was unfamiliar. Memories of the last unknown letter he’d gotten arose— _don’t rescue anymore_ —but he shook the idea from his head. This one held a return address; he was fine.

Closing the little door, Yu readjusted the strap of the messenger bag on his shoulder and readied himself to trudge up the stairs. The landlady still hadn’t gotten someone to fix the elevator yet—it looked like a death trap, but _still_ —and he was thinking about asking her to do so personally. Walking up a flight of stairs was murderous after a late patrol (and consequent fighting). He had enough bruises as it was.

Yu sighed, taking a moment after finally reaching that top step. It was almost two in the morning now; he doubted his neighbors would be up, but it wouldn’t do to make a ruckus just because he was sore and tired. Upon catching his breath, he made sure to be extra quiet as he headed down the hall, taking out his keys and fumbling with them for only a moment before he managed to fit the right one into the lock.

There was a loud curse from next door—the walls were thin here—but Yu ignored it. He hadn’t personally met the other yet, but according to Yosuke, the occupant of number 205 was an insomniac, which explained some of the strange noises he heard at night.

Yu let his bag drop by the door, toeing off his shoes and falling face first onto his bed as soon as he reached it, too tired to bother with turning on the lights or changing. He blinked blearily, hand still clutching the letter, and figured he might as well read it before he really passed out.

The leader of the IT dug his phone out of his pocket, using the flashlight to read as he tore open the envelope, unfolding the letter within. He rubbed the fuzziness out of his eyes.

 

 

_Dear Narukami Yu,_

_I’m sorry if this letter seems a little out of the blue. To be honest, I’m not even sure if this is your current address._

_My name is Kurusu Akira. You’ve been corresponding with my father for many years, and considering the content of the letters, I’m sure you already know me._

_Dad won’t tell me anything, and I don’t think anyone else knows either, even if they were willing. Since I read your letters I really need to know._

_What is your relation to me?_

_Sorry if this is a little awkward,  
Akira_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god I hit 100 kudos in only two chapters… *^* I didn’t think this would be so well-liked…  
> But hey, thought I’d give you guys a little idea of how in the world this is supposed to be different from canon. (Though to be honest I’m still figuring it out myself haha.) Mostly action, more background into the daily lives of the IT, and a teensy bit of plot if you squint.  
> Also Inspector Sakai is, yes, an OC and I love him. I needed a police officer that wasn’t a detective, wasn’t Goro Akechi or another persona user, but had that potential. Hence, OCs. There’ll be a few of them, for reasons you’ll see more of later. (Gods this is turning out to be much more complex and much longer than I’d initially planned…)
> 
> Fun Fact: Jung also created the idea of the Collective Unconscious, to represent a form of the unconscious common to all of mankind/society and originating from the inherited structure of the brain. It’s populated by instincts and archetypes found throughout various aspects of cultures and societies.  
> He argued that the collective unconscious had profound influence on the lives of individuals, and believes that in addition to our individual psyche, there exists a second psychic system identical in all individuals of a collective, universal, and impersonal nature. He linked the Collective Unconscious to Freud’s “archaic remnants”—mental forms whose presence cannot be explained by anything in the individual’s personal experiences and seem to be aboriginal, innate, and inherited shapes of the human mind.  
> This sound anything like Mementos? (And to an extent the TV world?)


	4. when light ceases

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “at night,  
> when light ceases,  
> will you tell me who you are?  
> I only ask because  
> you look like dust  
> who used to be a star.”  
> ~b.a.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh… I may have unintentionally left a cliff hanger there. Sorry about that.   
> Don’t kill me please haha.

The next morning, Akira woke up cursing his past self.

He never made the most rational of decisions when running on a lack of sleep and an overdose of coffee—Ryuji, Morgana, and Ann had commented on this more than once when they went to Mementos several nights in a row—but this had to be the stupidest thing yet. (Barring, of course, the time he nearly got himself killed by a shadow because he was trying to bargain with it. Lesson learned: don’t bargain with shadows, just mug them.)

Narukami Yu could be a stalker that dad had been trying to protect him from, or some abusive relative, or a jealous ex-lover that’d play nice until things went sour. And he just sent a potentially dangerous person a letter with his current address on it. Akira groaned loudly to himself, Morgana staring at him.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Akira didn’t answer, just shaking his head as he reluctantly rolled out of bed. It was too late to do anything about it now. He’d just have to pray that it was none of the above and that Narukami never replied. It was Sunday, and he’d promised Sojiro that he’d help out at Leblanc today. Sometimes he really hated that shop.

 

* * *

 

 

Sojiro assigned him straight to dishwashing duty. Evidently, he wasn’t yet trusted to deal with customers, much less make them food or coffee. Hopefully, that would eventually change.

Akira sighed as he put the nth plate in the drying rack, perhaps a little too carelessly. Not that he really cared. Morgana had watched him for about the first hour and a half, occasionally striking up a conversation about Mementos or the smell of curry or the latest customer to walk in. Then he was abandoned so the damned cat could find better amusement than a bus boy.

He scowled at a particularly stubborn spot, scrubbing at it furiously, but his progress was halted at the sound of someone giggling behind him.

“What did that plate do to you?” He blinked, turning around. A young woman, probably in her early twenties, was watching him with pretty brown eyes and an amused smile hidden behind a cup of coffee.

Akira blinked. Was she really talking to him? And she was waiting for a response too, wasn’t she?

“…It didn’t want to take its bath.”

Wow Akira. What happened to all that wit?

His self-deprecating thoughts shut up at the sound of a snort, and suddenly the woman was laughing, _hard_ , her coffee sloshing over the sides of the mug as she set it down on the counter with a loud _clack_ to avoid spilling it entirely. He was completely dumbfounded, just watching the woman bending over in her seat at the bar and cackle madly, tears leaking out her eyes.

“Didn’t want… its bath… a dish…!” Those were the only words he could make out as she gasped for breath, finally calming down. She took one glance at him and started all over again.

The commotion got Sojiro’s attention, and he raised a brow from across the room. All Akira could do was shrug.

He didn’t really know what else to do, and grabbed the rag he’d been using to dry plates, instead wiping up the coffee that had spilled from the woman’s cup. She was finally starting to calm down a little, so Akira didn’t have to worry about dodging flailing limbs or drops of hot coffee. (Unfortunately, he’d have to find another, semi-clean rag to dry the plates with.)

The young woman smiled fondly at him, lifting her mug to allow him to wipe under it, and taking a sip.

“You remind me of someone.”

Akira looked up, blinking startlingly at their proximity. He backed up quickly, sitting up straight. “Uh, thanks.”

Still smiling at him, the young woman stood up, nodding to him and setting the mug back on the counter.

“Thank you for the coffee, Sakura-san.” She bowed in Sojiro’s direction and left.

“Come again, Amagi-san,” the Leblanc owner replied, waving briefly before turning back to his customers.

Akira stared out the door, thoroughly discombobulated.

“Get back to work!”

 

* * *

 

 

_Sir Madarame Ichiryusai,  
a great sinner of vanity whose talent has been exhausted. _

_You are an artist who uses authority to shamelessly steal the idea of his pupils.  
We have decided to make you confess all your crimes with your own mouth. _

_We will take your distorted desires without fail._

_From,  
_ _the Phantom Thieves of Hearts_

 

* * *

 

 

Sometimes Akira felt like he was in over his head. All he’d been planning was to get through the year of probation, and then another year with the disappointed looks of his parents before escaping off to college. Been looking forward to it, even.

Of course, he wasn’t that lucky.

Madarame’s Shadow was disgusting, almost as much as Kamoshida’s. (Then again, a middle-aged man in nothing but a thong and cape was pretty hard to beat.) The old geezer’s painted lips curled, its painting floating around and dodging every attempt they made to attack it.

He could hear, somewhere behind him, Ann groaning in frustration. He didn’t really blame her.

It was the last piece of Azazel they needed to defeat, and Akira felt no small amount of satisfaction as he shaved off one side of the mustache sticking out of the frame. He whirled around as it dodged by the hair on its face, shooting it right in the teeth. Azazel reeled back, and the edge of the frame knocked against his knuckles—

 

* * *

 

 

_“Mother! Mother, look! Look at what I drew!”_

_She smiled at him, soft and warm and full of tenderness. “My, what a beautiful drawing! You’re quite the little artist, aren’t you?”_

_She was so proud, overflowing with it so that it filled him in turn._

_“Someday I’ll paint you, mother! And everyone will see how beautiful you are! And, and someday, I’ll get rich and we’ll live in a big house and I’ll paint lots!”_

_Ugly faces, ugly, ugly faces with no beauty. None at all._

_“You call_ that _art? You must be blind to think you have any talent.”_

_What did it matter, words from a novice? They understood nothing. There was no beauty in them, no art._

_They understood nothing. They would never understand. They were nothing._

_“Dude, you’re pretty good. You gonna be an artist?”_

_They weren’t looking at him, didn’t even notice. Three sketchbooks lying open, spread out on his desk, just waiting for them to see. But all eyes were on someone else, on that_ bastard. _Teeth grinding, face twisted in an ugly expression, he didn’t even notice the pencil snapping in half, splinters falling onto the half-finished sketch._

_Someday, they would all see. They would see_ him _, and they would notice_ him _, and no one would ever ignore him again._

_Frail, frail hands encompassing his, well-worn callouses of an artist rubbing against his own smooth hands. They were cold, but there was a beauty in that, as well._

_“…Mom?”_

_She was gone, and left in her wake only the remnants of true beauty. She took the secrets with her, left it behind. He heard nothing but silence in the room, heard only the voices carrying through the door._

_“He’ll have to stay somewhere. His uncle’s?”_

_“The man doesn’t want custody. Poor boy, he’ll be all alone.”_

_“Perhaps there’s a boarding school that will take him in? At that age, there’s not a lot of people willing to take him in.”_

_“…I’ll see if I can find something.”_

_There was only ugliness left around him._

_“Is… Is it alright?” She smiled up at him, nervous, hoping for praise. Young, hopeful, and at last he could see the beauty he had so missed. In her, he could see beauty._

_“Yes,” it was perfect. Sayuri. Kitagawa Sayuri, yes, even her name held beauty. Through her, he could at last obtain art. Through her, no one would ever ignore him again._

_A mother, her pride, her love._

_He locked away his heart and the hollowness it left in his chest. His heart held only ugliness. All he needed—all he wanted—was beauty. Nothing else._

_It slipped from his hands, gone, gone, gone. It was all gone. Not even Sayuri was left. Only the ugliness._

_“Hey Yusuke…” Sayuri… “What should I do?”_

 

* * *

 

 

Akira stumbled backwards, jerking his hand away in time for Morgana to follow up with _Magaru_ , and that seemed to be enough to stun it. The mouth of Azazel growled.

“ **Dammit… I’m the great Madarame… The Madarame who gathers a full crowd every time he opens an exhibit! I’m not someone that worthless brats like you are allowed to defy…!** ” Despite his threats, his voice was reedy, desperate, and at Ann’s command, Carmen cast a _Maragi_ , and the painting disappeared, finally defeated.

All that was left was the Shadow of Madarame, already standing with an air of defeat.

With a nod to the others, they stood back and let Yusuke have the last attack.

A single strike from Goemon was all it took, and he fell to the ground, the _Sayuri_ clutched in his arms.

Akira didn’t know what to think.

 

* * *

 

 

Akira barely made it back before his curfew, letting out a long and deep breath that had Sojiro glancing at him from where the man was nursing a cup of coffee.

“What happened to you?” He raised a brow, and Akira tilted his head just a little, hoping the man wouldn’t notice the bruises from under his collar.

“Long day.” The man shrugged, and Akira was about to escape to his room when he called the boy back as his foot hit the stair.

“A letter came for you. Some guy named Narukami?” Akira’s eyes widened, and he wasn’t sure if his heart was pounding from anticipation or apprehension as he snatched the envelope from the countertop. He didn’t pause to answer the questioning look in Sojiro’s eyes as he flew back up the stairs, Morgana letting out a squawk in protest from inside his bag.

“What’s gotten into you, Akira? Who’s this Narukami?” The cat attempted to snatch the letter from his hands, but Akira dodged swiftly, curling around the letter protectively at his desk, pulling the envelope open carefully. His other hand was already digging for a paper and pen as he read.

 

 

_Dear Kurusu Akira,_

_I apologize if it seemed like we were hiding something from you. I thought it was best for you to live your own life._

_To answer your question, I’m your ~~brother~~ half-brother. We have the same mother. She and your father divorced when you were very young, so I’m not surprised that you don’t remember. Our mother took custody of me and Mr. Nao took custody of you._

_I was the one who requested to keep in contact, so if it’s making you uncomfortable, I can stop._

_Sincerely,  
Yu_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha they’re finally talking to each other. This fic is definitely going to go much longer than I originally planned. I only have so many poems/quotes/etc about stars as of the moment though, so if you know of any good ones (or want to make up your own) please feel free to. I could probably use them.  
> This is a little short, but that’s mainly cause if the next chapter needs to happen before I can really start having fun. :3 This is essentially the last of the “intro” chapters, I guess. 
> 
> (I may or may not have gotten distracted from finishing this by writing the next chapter. Akira’s snark is hard when my brain doesn’t work.)
> 
> Superverse Trivia: As I’m sure you’ve noticed, while Persona users can use their Personas the way they do in the game, this is only true within the Dark Hour, Mementos, TV World, and the Palaces/Dungeons. Outside of that, they can summon their Personas but not externally. The Persona abilities instead manifest internally, almost as if the User themselves are the Persona, within limits of course. A good example would be Yukiko’s wings, courtesy of Konohana Sakuya. This is a large part of the reason their aliases are their Personas, since when most people are actually able to see them in action, it’s going to be outside of those places.


	5. all that i am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sometimes I sit alone  
> under the stars and  
> think of the galaxies  
> inside my heart  
> and truly wonder  
> if anyone will ever  
> want to make sense  
> of all that I am.”
> 
> ~Christopher Poindexter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo did I mention I had this half-finished? Yeeeeaaaaahhhhhhh I was playing Persona 5 since posting the last chapter hahaha. I apologize for not getting my life together.

_Dear Narukami Yu,_

_What do you mean by brother? Dad doesn’t talk about my birth mother much, but I feel like he would’ve said something about siblings. If what you say is true, why were we separated?_

_I suppose I can understand where you’re coming from, though. Long distance relationships are hard to keep up, but I still would have at least liked to have the option myself of deciding whether or not I wanted to keep in contact._

_But on that note, I would like to keep in contact. I want to be able to decide something for myself this time._

_Sincerely,  
Akira_

 

 

The first thing Yu felt upon reading that letter was an immense sense of relief. Akira wanted to keep in contact.

The thought was enough to put a grin on his face for the next several hours, the rest of his day just a little brighter as he tucked the note away to reply to later, when he had some free time.

Classes were difficult, but not unmanageable, and as always, he took notes diligently.

When his chemistry professor finally declared the class over—it was his last of the day—Yu raced out of the room, beating the rest of the class by a few seconds. His phone buzzed, and he skimmed through the text as he moved at a brisk pace out of the building.

 

**Hanamura Yosuke**

**2:00** _Hey, ur classes r ovr, rite?_

 **2:01** _want to hang out?_

 

Yu rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t quite stop the fond smile tugging at his lips.

 

 **2:02** Aren’t you working today?

 **2:02** _yea, so?_

 **2:03** _come supprt me!!!_

 

He couldn’t quite say no, and it wasn’t long before Yu found himself in front of the Bar-barian. There was never a visit where Yu didn’t take a moment to appreciate the name.

Appreciation Moment past, he slipped inside, already spotting Yosuke up on the small stage, singing as his fingers danced across the strings of the acoustic. His expression brightened a little more at the sight of Yu in the doorway, but neither his voice nor fingers faltered.

It was a bit early for a drink, in his opinion, but Yukiko, Chie, Kanji, and Naoto were already there, claiming one of the tables closest to the stage. He sighed at the sight of the drinks and snacks littering the table, opting to settle for giving them all his Disapproving Mom Look as he sat down.

They at least had the decency to look a little sheepish, but as college students he supposed he could let them off. They were entitled to a drink or two, after everything they’d gone through in high school. (Although, Yu was positive that they’d gone past “a drink or two” by now.)

Other than the five of them, Yosuke, and the rest of the staff, it was fairly empty. As it should be, at three in the afternoon.

Yu smiled as his friends laughed at a joke Chie had made, and his hand lingered on the letter in his pocket, thoughts flicking back to it momentarily before the wolf whistle of Rise as she entered distracted him from his thoughts, and the letter sat undisturbed in his pocket for a little longer.

 

* * *

 

 

It was supposed to be a normal patrol. The Dark Hour wasn’t due for another hour, and they had all split up for the Friday night, prepared to deal with the onslaught of drunks causing mischief. Other than the occasional party gone too far or a molestation, there wasn’t supposed to be any problems.

So when Rise had reported Chie’s call for backup— _Chie_ , who had never called for backup before—Yu was moving before she had even finished speaking. He doubted he was the only one, the unusual call sending all of them moving.

Yukiko was the first one there, as expected, though Yu followed not long after, having been one of the closest to Chie’s location. His coat flapped in the breeze as he leapt down from the rooftop, the blades of Izanagi’s feet protruding from his shoes now as he used them to slow his descent, landing in a crouch on the street by his friends’ sides.

The last thing he expected, however, was the masked figures staring back at them in surprise.

The rest of the team arrived only seconds later, all seven facing off with the four (and their cat? Teddie was a bear so he supposed it wasn’t completely out there).

“Who are you?!” Chie asked—for the second time, according to the expressions and raised guards of Konohana Sakuya and Tomoe. Yu was ready for any surprises, hands gripping his katana, but he tried to refrain from being completely on guard yet. The newcomers may just be new heroes; more persona users even.

Several of the masked figures shared looks with one another, seeming unsure, until one of them stepped forward, hands in his pockets and head cocked in a casual, almost arrogant manner. Yu immediately deduced this guy as the leader. His trench coat billowed around his legs as the breeze picked up into a full-blown wind. A storm was coming.

“Depends on who’s asking.”

He smirked, and though half his face was hidden by the monochrome mask, his golden eyes were clearly seen. Yu could feel the others behind him shifting, ready for a fight at the sight of his eyes. Yu’s instincts tried pulling his body into joining them, but his logic knew it wasn’t the Dark Hour yet. There shouldn’t be any Shadows that have escaped Mementos. Not yet, at least.

Chie growled at the leader of the masked figured, and Yu held up a hand, signaling for them to wait as he stepped forward.

“I’m Izanagi.” Best to be civil, at least for now. “This is my team.” With a look, the others reluctantly introduced themselves.

It was hard to tell with the mask and the thick mop of hair, but Yu was pretty sure the other’s eyebrows raised in what was no doubt some kind of interest or knowledge. His smirk morphed into something a little more genuine.

“You can call me Joker. This is Panther, Skull, Fox, and Mona.” So the cat was part of their group then. “We’re the Phantom Thieves of Hearts.”

At those words, Yu could feel the others instantly go into battle stances, the Thieves behind Joker doing the same in response. Yu kept his eyes on Joker.

“You steal hearts?” Joker grinned at his confusion.

“Something like that.”

The world went dark as the streetlights flickered out, and everything was lit only by the sickly green light of the moon. In those brief seconds where their sight was taken, the Thieves were suddenly no longer there, and Yu whirled to see them slip into the entrance of Mementos.

“After them!” He barked, already running as fast as he could towards the entrance. He skipped the stairs in favor of sliding down the railing, flying ahead into the darkness. He saw the flap of a coat as it disappeared around a pillar, and didn’t hesitate running after it.

The others weren’t far behind, but as Yu rounded the corner, he watched the back of a black truck speeding away. He cursed, mind making a mental note of the license plate just in case, but there wasn’t any way for them all to catch up.

“Dammit!” Kanji groused, stumbling to a stop at his side.

“Do you think they’re really criminals?” Rise’s judgment when it came to people was almost never wrong, and he eyed the wrinkles between her brows.

Yosuke, on the other hand, scoffed. “They called themselves thieves! Of course they are!”

Yu wasn’t entirely sure what to think.

 

* * *

 

 

Yu sighed, exhausted. Yosuke had gone ahead, the Magician likely already asleep in his own bed. Yu longed for his, the comforts of his mattress so close, yet so far. He really needed to have a conversation with the landlady about that elevator.

He trudged up the last step, nearly stumbling on his way down the hall. He didn’t notice the other person there until he ran into them, keeping his balance only with the help of the trusty wall.

“Er, sorry,” mumbled Yu, blinking awake into his eyes as he turned to see who’d had the misfortune of standing there.

Emerald green eyes pierced through his for a moment before their owner blinked, and the young man—perhaps around Yu’s age—pushed wavy brown hair out of his face. It didn’t seem to do much, the strands falling back into place as he tilted his head in thought.

“It’s fine. I doubt most people are very coordinated at three in the morning.” His lip quirked up in an amused manner, and Yu blinked rapidly to clear his blurry vision.

“That doesn’t seem to apply to you.” The brunette shrugged.

“I’m an insomniac.”

 _Oh_. He must have been the occupant of number 205. The realization seemed to jar the murky haze from his mind, and he took a moment to compose himself before holding out a hand.

“It’s nice to meet you. My name is Narukami Yu; I live in Apartment 206.” The brunette stared at his hand, but eventually shook it, pulling calloused fingers away again in a sharp movement. Yu tried not to let the action phase him.

“Izukai Shouta. Pleasure.” Shouta smiled thinly and disappeared down the stairs before Yu could reply.

As Yu collapsed onto his mattress a few minutes later, the last passing thought he had before passing out was that Yosuke and Shouta should have a race—he’d be intrigued to see who’d win.

 

* * *

 

 

Yu awoke to find himself in the strangest living room he had ever come across.

The fireplace flickered with a nonexistent flame—something that sounded impossible, but it was the only description he could think of to describe it—surrounded by white brick. The soft carpeting of the ivory carpet was immaculate before him, its perfection interrupted only by the glass coffee table.

Yu leaned back against the silvery-white loveseat he was perched in, exhaling with a _whoosh_. The living room—right down to the velvety feel of the cushion beneath him—reminded him so completely of the Velvet Room that it left him with a strong feeling of déjà vu. If not for the lack of blue hues swathing the room, he would have expected to see Igor occupying one of the two armchairs before him.

But instead of the long-nosed man, there sat a young girl, possibly fourteen or fifteen, with ebony hair that stood out from the room’s color scheme. Her eyes were covered by a black blindfold, but despite her seeming blindness, she turned to smile at him. There was an otherworldly appearance about her, the bookshelves making up the wall behind her only adding to the vast knowledge and wisdom already represented in her expression.

“Welcome, Narukami Yu, to the Velour Room.”

Yu blinked, looked around some more, and only came up with more questions as he turned back to the girl. He opened his mouth to speak, but the girl beat him to it.

“I imagine you have a lot of questions, Mr. Narukami.” He nodded, and her smile seemed to soften. “Well then, I suppose to answer one of your questions, my name is Isobel. Since you are here, I imagine that you have already been acquainted with Igor.”

Yu nodded again, starting to feel dumber and dumber with every eloquent word that passed her lips, as if she said the word in every language simultaneously, yet somehow it was embodied in the Japanese language. It wasn’t a feeling he particularly liked. He took a moment to figure out how to best phrase his question.

“How are you related to Igor?”

Isobel’s smile widened in approval. “I can see why you held the power of the Wild Card. Igor’s Master chose well.”

“Master?”

“Igor is but a servant to the god Philemon. He embodies Philemon’s intentions, allowing his Master to act in your reality. I, like Igor, am but a servant to my Master.”

Musing over her words, Yu looked around the Velour Room. It was devoid of other beings, outside of him and Isobel. No assistants, then.

“Why am I here?”

The pleasant look on Isobel’s face vanished instantly, and she was suddenly more distant, colder, almost. Yu sincerely hoped he hadn’t somehow pissed off some higher being.

“It is… a question you should be asking, I suppose. After all, your journey is over.” She held his gaze with her hidden eyes while her interlaced fingers clasped nervously atop the ivory skirt so elegantly laid over her crossed legs. “You and the lives of other Persona users are the result of a bet, to put it bluntly. It is but an inevitable situation when the Gods seek new entertainment.” Her lips thinned in disapproval. “My Master wishes to see if humans have the potential towards a greater purpose outside of the contrived storylines created for you.”

Yu blinked, startled, to see a pair of boys where there weren’t any before. A young boy, looking no older than twelve, stood with his arms crossed petulantly by the other armchair, which was now occupied by a young man in his late teens. Both had ebony black hair, like Isobel, and the golden, too-intelligent eyes that he had come to associate with Margaret and the Velvet Room assistants.

Isobel’s smile returned in what he did not doubt was amusement at his reaction. “These are my brothers and assistants, Gabriel and Richard. They are primarily helping our other visitors, but you will see them from time to time.”

The younger one scoffed at him. “He doesn’t seem like much, sister. Are you sure he’s the right one?” The older boy pulled at one of the suspenders, snapping it back. The youngest of the trio jumped away with a yelp, hands clutching his chest.

“Gabe, there’s no need to be so rude to our visitors. They didn’t ask to be here, you know,” admonished the elder of the two—Richard, Yu surmised—though the amused smirk on his face didn’t really get the point across. Gabriel’s mouth twisted into a pout as he glowered at his brother, but turned to glare at Yu a moment later with an appraising look.

Gabriel scoffed, and Yu didn’t get the chance to be properly irked before the boy had tossed something at him. Yu caught it out of reflex, opening his hand to see a small piece of wood, perfectly carved and polished, yet otherwise devoid of any special characteristics. He raised a brow at the trio of siblings in question.

“The Blank Rune, known to some as Odin’s Rune.” Richard clarified with a smile on his face. “The Runes will tell us of your fate, Truth Seeker. Be sure to make it a good one.”

Isobel sighed, though whether or not because of him or her brothers, he couldn’t tell. “Despite what some may claim, the Blank Rune is not an actual Rune to be guided by. It signifies endless possibilities for that may unfold. In time, we will come to see the type of magic you shall hold.” She held up a hand, and within it was another wooden rune, this time with a symbol carved into it looking like a stylized M.

Gabriel reached behind him, pulling out one of the many books on the shelves and flipping to a seemingly random page as he began to read.

“ _Man in his joy, is dear to his kinsmen,_  
_Though each shall have to part from the other,_  
 _when by the Lord’s judgment he is entrusted to the earth_.”

“ _Mannaz_ , the symbol of the Man,” Isobel smiled, a soft look that made pride swell up in Yu’s chest. “Linked to the Self, it teaches us that Man is not infallible, but it is through the inevitability of death that a sense of comradeship and mutual compassion is created. The time is right for personal inner progress in the discovery of the Self; this can be achieved by facing your weaknesses and recognizing your innate talents. A symbol of logic and consciousness, it reminds us not to neglect our loved ones.” She placed the rune on the coffee table, where it pulsed with light.

“Izukai Shouta faced his Demon out of compassion for those he loved. Learn from his soul so that you may find the compassion to face your own Demons.” She turned away from him, staring into the fireplace. “I do hope you’ll visit again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the runes, I’ll be using The Spiritual Runes (A Guide to the Ancestral Wisdom) by Harmonia Saille as my main reference. There are too many differing things, so a single book really helps out there.  
> And yah, I wrote half this before chapter 4 hahahahaaa. 
> 
> Sooooo in case you didn’t notice, yes, this is going to be like 40 chapters. Mostly because I hate myself.  
> No but really, it’s because this is going along through the main plot and stuff, and all that plot stuff is long enough even before I add relationship-building moments. But this is my baby, so it’s okay.  
> (Also thinking about making a companion story to this—not counting all the oneshots and stuff I’m doing—but from the viewpoints of the Arisato twins or something. We’ll see.)
> 
> Fun Fact: Philemon made a bet with another god, Nyarlathotep, on humanity’s fate. Whereas Philemon bet on humans rising to greater heights, Nyarlathotep bet on their (self) destruction.  
> Nyarlathotep is a fictional character in H.P. Lovecraft’s Cthulu Mythos, featured as an Outer God. He can also be symbolic of the destructive potential of Jung’s collective unconscious.  
> Isobel’s Master, the God over the Velour Room, is a largely unrelated member to the two in the bet, but has over time become interested in what has resulted. The creation of the Velour Room and the introduction of the Runes are His way of determining His own answer about humanity, without the interference of the bet the other two Gods may have.


	6. scintilla

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scintilla (n.) a tiny, brilliant flash or spark; a small thing; a barely-visible trace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I’m so sorry. I went on a big trip and after that, well… But I want to try and get back into the groove a little bit, especially after coming back on AO3 and seeing the stats for this story. *^* Over 300 kudos, even after I haven’t update in so long…   
> I hope you still enjoy, nonetheless!

_Dear Kurusu Akira,_

_I don’t know all the details myself, but Mr. Nao and mom fought quite a bit. I imagine there was something about custody, but to be honest, I never really asked. I’m sure if you ask, Mr. Nao would tell you why._

_But I would be glad to keep in contact for as long as you’re willing, if that’s alright._

_Sincerely,  
Yu_

Akira read through the letter one more time, sighing to himself. He said that dad would’ve mentioned siblings, but if he were being completely honest, he wasn’t even sure. He thought he knew his dad, thought they had a strong bond; but after the last several months, he wasn’t so sure anymore.

And it’s not like he could ask, anyways. They were barely even on speaking terms, much less asking-difficult-questions-about-the-brother-you-never-told-me-about terms. Akira stared at the little, crudely-drawn cat face in the lower corner, and cracked a smile. It wasn’t so bad. At least his supposed brother, for all the polite wording, seemed to have a sense of humor. It made things just a little more normal, and normal was something he craved as of late.

The first half of his day was pretty routine: get up, go to school, attempt to stay awake throughout his classes, and pretend to be paying attention until he got the Question of the Day. His comfortable routine was unfortunately—or perhaps fortunately, he hadn’t quite decided yet—disrupted a fair bit when Makoto kept following them around everywhere. Or really, following him around. He wasn’t sure why he was getting the special attention in particular, though he suspected it had at least a bit to do with his criminal record.

Akira pretended not to notice Makoto peering at him from behind the corner as he folded the letter back up, tucking it into a small outside pocket in his bag. No matter how much he trusted Morgana, there was just something about the letter that he didn’t want to risk destroying.

It was nearing the end of the lunch break, and the classroom he’d escaped was calling, dragging him back to its confines. He sighed, and Morgana shifted in his bag as he got jostled by Akira climbing the stairs.

He slipped into his seat just as the English teacher walked into the room, and while Morgana made himself comfortable in the desk, Akira pulled out the necessary books. His last school had covered the entirety of this unit already, and Akira allowed himself to slip off into his own head for a moment.

For a while, he entertained himself with what he could recall from the letters. Bits and pieces that put together parts of a person, like having only a fraction of a complicated puzzle. He wondered what Yu looked like, whether he was tall and wiry, like Akira, or if he had curly hair or not. He knew Yu wasn’t too much older than him, judging from the evolution of the handwriting in comparison to the dates on the letters. College or grad school, maybe. He knew Yu moved a lot, and that his parents were rich. He was the young heir type; he played the violin, studied diligently, knew how to cook…

Where did the similarities end and the differences begin? Akira had lost everything a few months ago because of the rich and the privileged. But it sounded like Yu had everything.

But no, not everything.

Akira pushed his English book aside, pulling out the folder he’d put all the letters in. They were in chronological order, and he flipped to one of the oldest ones. December 2004.

 

_  
Dear Mr. Nao,_

_I made mother cookies from this old recipe book I found. They were the first cookies I’ve ever made. They had chocolate and a little bit of salt that makes it taste really good for some reason, and a little bit of peppermint. She came home today and Christmas is coming up so I thought I’d practice making cookies for Santa. But when I showed her, she got angry and told me cookies made you fat and that I shouldn’t make them again. Dad took me out shopping for presents for mother after that._

_I don’t understand why cookies are bad. I used to watch Hamuko and Minato help Aunt Miho and Uncle Hayate make them all the time._

_Mr. Nao, why do people go away to heaven? Dad says that’s where Aunt Miho and Uncle Hayate went. Is that where mother and dad go every time they leave? Do they go visit Aunt Miho and Uncle Hayate? Why don’t they take me with them?_

_I don’t like staying at home. The new house makes creaky noises at night and sometimes the bathroom light turns off by itself. It’s lonely._

_Please don’t leave Akira at home. It isn’t a very nice place._

_Sincerely,  
Yu _

 

 

What kind of person was their mom, to make her own kid hate his own home?

How many years had Yu been lonely?

Akira got out a piece of paper and started writing.

 

* * *

 

 

Akira was cleaning dishes again when he heard a familiar tinkling laugh and a soft voice speaking from somewhere behind him.

“Are the dishes behaving today?”

The young woman—Sojiro had referred to her as Amagi-san—sat at the same place as before at the bar, daintily nursing a cup of coffee. She seemed tired, more so than the last time he had seen her.

Realizing that she was asking a legitimate question, he glanced back down at the dishes in hand. “Er, yes.”

She smiled at him, humming and taking a sip. “I didn’t introduce myself last time. My name is Amagi Yukiko.”

Akira set the now dried plate off to the side, wiping his hands on a rag before taking a small bow in her direction. Manners were important, especially when you were trying to be a normal student (rumored delinquent or not) and not a phantom thief.

“Kurusu Akira. Nice to meet you, Amagi-san.”

Her brows furrowed, and she tilted her head, studying him. “Have we met before, by any chance?”

Akira hid the knee-jerk reaction his body wanted to have. (Bad Akira; not everyone you meet is out looking for Joker.) “I don’t think so, no.”

That didn’t stop her from mulling the subject over. “But I could have sworn…” Akira turned back to his dishes somewhat cautiously; she seemed to have forgotten he was there, but he figured he’d leave it. Hopefully she would forget about it.

Amagi-san didn’t get up from her seat until just after Akira had finally finished up the dishes. It was about closing time as it was, and he still had some homework to do before heading out for the night. He had to keep up some semblance of normalcy, after all.

He’d just shucked the apron when Amagi-san made a little exclamation of surprise. Akira turned to her, expecting another coffee spill to clean, but she was crouched on the ground, holding what looked like a piece of wood. Was it from the counter?

“Here, you dropped this,” she stood, dropping it into his palm. Akira blinked.

“Uh, thanks?” She smiled, and gave a farewell to Sojiro before disappearing out the door. Akira blinked again, looking down at the smooth piece of wood in his hands. He rubbed its smooth, blank surface, turning it over and over again. It was carved and polished, but it didn’t look to be a part of the bar or any other piece of furniture in the area.

Akira shrugged, pocketed it, and forgot about it.

 

* * *

 

 

It was hard to believe, sometimes. The world was cruel, painful, and the reality of the world was simply that there was no true justice. A prisoner of fate… It was nights like these that Joker found the term and apt description.

Tonight was one of the darker ones, when he spent half his time rescuing people from Mementos or other human beings (disgusting bastards that they were; the lucky ones got their hearts changed). The other half was spent, well, stealing.

Not everyone knew about it, of course. Fox was far too innocent, too naïve, and Ann believed too much in the goodness of people. Mona noticed when he went out at night, but never really said anything. Sometimes, Joker brought him back sushi as thanks and an apology. He was never really sure which one. And then there was Skull. He was pretty sure Skull knew about it—almost positive, in fact; it was hard to hide things from someone who’s been around since the beginning—but his partner in crime had never actually admitted to it. Sometimes he gave Joker a look, when he had to skirt around the truth behind what he’d really been doing (he could never outright lie, not to his teammates), but then he was back to being Skull, the loyal friend and loud, brutish thief.

He pulled out his phone, flipping through the messages of Confidants asking for some of his time. But he was busy tonight.

Joker opened up the thread with Mishima, glancing once more at the unconscious figure before him.

**Mishima Yuuki**

**23:53** Job is done.

 

 

He didn’t wait for a response; they’d discuss it next time they met up. Pocketing the phone, he then proceeded to start rifling through the pockets of the thief slumped against the wall. He found the man’s phone first. _Useless_. The wallet was in the other pocket, and Joker wrinkled his nose at the lack of cash. This guy was one of the stupid ones that spent all the cash he stole, judging from the watch. Well, he wasn’t going to be doing it anymore.

Joker unclasped the gold watch, tossing it in hand for a moment before pocketing it. The guy at least had good taste. He could pawn it off at Iwai’s, but he’d broken his last one, and it _was_ a nice watch…

There wasn’t time to make a decision though, as the world darkened around him, the thief turning into a coffin as the moon hung sick in the sky. The Dark Hour. Joker grimaced, calling on Arsène. He was far too close to one of Mementos’ entrances, and no doubt he’d be assaulted by an onslaught of shadows at any moment.

He wasn’t disappointed.

A couple of bicorns were the first to come; he took care of them quickly. A swarm of pixies followed, and while they were a pain, it was nothing a few bullets couldn’t handle. It was an interesting situation, though—the Shadows always made a beeline for any Persona users in the area before going after potential victims. It was definitely an effective way to ensure no one else got hurt.

Joker flipped around an _Agi_ , calling on Arsène to dispatch of the Shadow without bothering to see what it was. It was getting thicker, the swarm, and it was definitely an unusually busy night. He thought about calling for backup, but immediately dismissed the thought out of hand. He didn’t need the group questioning where he really got the money for their heists. (Infiltrating a Palace was expensive.)

He slashed at the Onmoraki—damned things were hard to kill, sometimes, and even harder to negotiate with—before sending a Persona at its friend. He needed to move soon; he was running low on energy, and there wasn’t the time to heal himself when he was alone and being attacked on all sides.

He attacked and dodged and defended, but still there was no way out. The Dark Hour couldn’t be around for too much longer—not that he had a good sense of time in the midst of battle, but it was always something to keep in mind when dealing with Shadows, whether in Mementos, a Palace, or the Dark Hour. He was running low on energy, he was injured and only getting increasingly reckless, and any chance he’d had about making a quick phone call was out the window, and there was no way Morgana would be able to get here on time even if he decided to go out searching.

Joker took a deep, shuddering breath, and gave in to the bloodlust.

(It always bubbled to just underneath the surface when he fought for long periods of time. The others had it too, and it was for that reason that he had created the four member rule after Yusuke joined. They could switch out; he had a better control of his in comparison to them. But that didn’t mean he was invincible.)

Everything held a crimson tint to it, and he stopped holding back, stopped letting guilt and morality pull back his punches. There was no need to hold back, to be soft. It was kill or be killed, destroy lest you yourself be destroyed.

He let himself take pleasure in it, manic grin spreading on his face. The adrenaline, the feel of power rushing through his veins, it reminded him of when he’d first awoken. It was better than any high, and the laugh that floated above the violence probably came from him, even if he didn’t recall letting it out. It was so easy to remove himself from the weight of the consequences, to stop letting society’s expectations force him into a mold and just do what he wanted, when he wanted…

A shot, a _Ziodyne_ , streaked past his shoulder, narrowly missing his face and piercing something behind him. Joker turned, seeing the Shadow dissipating behind him. The source of the electric attack leaped down into the little circle he’d created amidst the chaos, turning to him with a stern expression visible even through the mask.

A shiver ran down his spine, and he tried to ignore the weird feeling, about to tell the guy to either fuck off or stop staring and _fight_ , but as the red haze started to disappear and his vision started to clear, he could see the thief from before still lying prone before him. The Dark Hour had ended and he hadn’t noticed.

Another shiver, caused by the icy crawl down his spine, this time for an entirely different reason. It was getting worse. Joker hid the shaking in his hands by stuffing them in the pockets of his pants. Izanagi was still staring at him, and if Joker didn’t know any better, he’d say the other seemed almost… worried.

“You’ve got blood on your face. Right here,” Izanagi tapped his cheek, and Joker blinked, somewhat startled by the metallic voice. The last time they’d spoken face-to-face had been that first confrontation just outside Mementos, and it hadn’t exactly been a friendly one.

He scrubbed at his face with a gloved hand, looking at the dark cloth. The other user had been right; when had that gotten there…?

“What are you doing here?” Joker narrowed his eyes at the hero; just because the guy had saved his life didn’t mean he wouldn’t turn him in when he got the chance.

Izanagi crossed his arms at the gruff question, suddenly more guarded than before. Joker prepared himself to make a break for it if needed. “I was doing my rounds when I found you in the middle of a bloodbath. If you don’t mind me asking, what were _you_ doing?”

Joker snorted, turning away to gesture to the guy on the ground. “The usual.”

Izanagi turned to the thief, and huffed out a sigh. “Does he have a phone?” Joker rose a brow, though it went unseen, but fished it out from the guy’s pocket, watching as the hero started dialing a number. “Inspector?”

A grousing voice replied, and Joker knew it was time to go.

(He would be keeping this encounter in mind for a while, though.)

 

* * *

 

 

When Akira opened his eyes, he was prepared for Caroline to shout at him, the weights of the chains weighing him down. But the room—which wasn’t even a cell, evident by the lack of bars and chains—was devoid of any shade of blue.

Akira blinked, sitting up with a start to see the near blinding whiteness of the room. The sheets of the bed under him were unbelievably soft, nothing like the hard cot in the cell of the Velvet Room, with a texture not unlike velvet, ironically enough.

The bedroom was much nicer than his own, for sure, with a closet of ivory at the other end of the room and a window to his left, though he could see only a white nothingness beyond the glass. To his right, against the wall, was a white desk. Akira jumped, only just now seeing the prepubescent boy sitting atop the desk, legs swinging in a childish, though carefree manner. His golden eyes—Akira was briefly reminded of the twin wardens of the Velvet Room—stared unblinkingly at Akira, who tried to hide the shudder that racked his body for a moment. The boy shook ebony black hair out of his face and glowered.

“Welcome to the Velour Room, Kurusu Akira.”

Why couldn’t he get someone nice, for once?

“You probably have a lot of questions, but I don’t need to answer them, so listen up! My Master wants to see how you pathetic humans live up to the reputation you’ve built among the Gods. Don’t disappoint, got it?”

Akira blinked, head spinning. Just… _What?_ He opened his mouth, shut it, and opened it again. The boy seemed to be getting impatient, so Akira settled with the first question to arise from the storm of muddled thoughts.

“Who the hell are you?”

The boy jumped off the desk, tugging on the ends of his shorts, boots tapping impatiently on the pristine carpet. “The name’s Gabriel. You better not forget it!”

Another, older teen walked up to Gabriel, and Akira tensed, body coiling in a primal fight-or-flight response to the guy who just appeared out of _nowhere_. Nonetheless, the ebony-haired young man noticed his reaction and smiled softly in what was undoubtedly amusement.

“My apologies for startling you, Kurusu Akira. You may call me Richard.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes, and with a curt flip of his wrist, picked up a picture from the desktop. Akira didn’t get a chance to see what it contained as he handed it to Richard, who just smiled fondly at the younger boy. Turning his eyes to the photo, he recited:

_“The harvest brings hope to man,_  
If God lets the earth, bestow her bright  
fruits on both the rich and the needy.”

Unclenching one hand, Gabriel revealed a wooden rune of two opposing arrows, the small object pulsing with bright light.

“ _Jera_ is the symbol of the Year or Season. The harvest is a part of the year cycle, and you will reap what you have sown. _Jera_ teaches you that the hard work you put in will result in bounty—hopefully. A time of waiting shall soon be over, and you will see whether or not it is worth it. With _Jera_ , you can expect some help if you are in need.” He set the rune on the desk with a _clack_. “Amagi Yukiko found her Freedom with her hard work and patience. Learn from her soul to reap your own harvest and find prosperity.”

Richard gave him one last smile. “I’m sure my brother will look forward to your next visit.”

The white room faded into further whiteness, and suddenly Akira was overcome with a strong sense of nausea as the world warped, and he clenched his teeth and eyes, hard, to fight off the oncoming migraine. It was dark, and he opened his eyes once more to the dark cell of the Velvet Room.

“Get up, you lazy prisoner!”

Akira shut his eyes again, hoping in vain for a reprieve. Why did he always pull the short straw when it came to the Gods’ amusement?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! :3 Yu isn’t the only one with a Velour Room~! I do look forward to further developing that as we go here, as well as other things coming up and a slow-going relationship. Trust me, things will pick up eventually.
> 
> Fun Fact: Each of the Velvet Room occupants are named after characters of Frankenstein (who all are in some way related to Victor Frankenstein.) Elizabeth Lavenza, Victor Frankenstein’s fiancé, Margaret Walton Saville, the recipient of the letters that constitute the novel and the brother of Robert Walton, the man who rescued the doctor at sea; Dr. Theodore Bohmer from Ghost of Frankenstein and Theodor Richard Edward con Holst, the first illustrator of the novel; Caroline Frankenstein, the mother of Dr. Victor Frankenstein and adoptive mother of Elizabeth and mother surrogate to Justine Moritz—a servant to the Frankenstein family; and of course Igor, the assistant to the doctor in later versions.  
> Frankenstein itself takes after Jung’s concept of the Shadow as well as Freud’s concept of the id, ego, and superego. The monster represents the id, as well as the Shadow; Dr. Victor Frankenstein is the ego, and Victor’s father is the superego.


	7. of starstuff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The nitrogen in our DNA, the calcium in our teeth, the iron in our blood, the carbon in our apple pies were made in the interiors of collapsing stars. We are made of starstuff.” 
> 
> ~Carl Sagan

_Dear Yu,_

_Let me get to know my brother._

_Please,  
Akira_

 

 

Yu traced the characters scrawled unto the page. He had no idea what to do. What was he supposed to say? Akira wanted to get to know him, but what could Yu possibly say about himself?

_Guess what, Akira? Your older brother is a psychopath with superpowers that spends his nights parading around the city in a mask and ridiculous costume with his equally crazy friends. They battle these things called Shadows, which are basically those monsters under your bed that you thought didn’t exist, but they actually come out of people!_

Yeah, no.

Yu sighed, giving up for the moment and sliding the letter back off his textbook. He’d been trying to study for hours—trying to show Yosuke a good example of what a student was supposed to be doing, but it was hard when he himself kept drifting off into dreamland.

The tiny print swam before his eyes, and Yu’s attention immediately latched onto something else to think of.

“Remember that cat I mentioned to you the other day?” Yosuke didn’t seem to hear him, for once looking deep in thought as he stared down at what looked to be some kind of language homework.

He made a noise of acknowledgement. “The one that got you all upset because it didn’t like you right?”

“Yeah,” Yu paused, scribbling some answer to a question he didn’t really register. He’d have to look through this again to make sure it was actually correct. “I keep coming back to it. The cat seemed kind of familiar.”

Yosuke snorted. “Of course it did, man. You coddle every stray cat you find.” Yosuke seemed proud that he’d used ‘coddle’ correctly, seeing as the word had given him trouble during his last exam. (Granted, he’d had a hangover that day.) “You’ve probably fed it several times already.”

Yu frowned—that still didn’t explain why it had run, but he decided it wasn’t something to worry about at this moment. “Didn’t the Phantom Thieves have a cat with them?”

There was a long pause before he got an answer. “Well, yeah, now that you mention it. But it was probably just a Shadow like Teddie. You know, sentient, self-aware, humanoid?”

It was Yu’s turn to snort in poorly hidden amusement. “I thought Teddie was unique.”

Yosuke grimaced at the reminder. Last time Teddie had visited them, he’d gotten upset that everyone had forgotten about him back in Inaba, and even if he had Nana-chan, he was still lonely. Despite all their reassurances that they hadn’t forgotten about him, Teddie had seemed convinced that they had replaced him. Yosuke’s off-hand comment about Teddie being unique was about the only thing that prevented a whole other issue.

“Don’t tell him I said that.”

Yu gave his partner a teasing grin. “No promises.”

He turned back to studying after that, pushing the cat matter aside for the moment. He had a test in a few hours, after all.

* * *

 

By the time Yu had returned from classes, Yosuke had left, most likely either to his part time job or to a class. Yu sighed; he’d go on patrol, but the rest of the team had forced him to sit the night out. Said he’d been working too hard—they were probably right, but that didn’t change the fact that Yu had nothing to do.

He leaned back in his desk chair, pondering his options. It was almost dinner time, and he could go out to eat, but it was kind of pathetic eating by himself, and he’d already completed the Big Bang Burger Challenge. After defeating Aiya’s Beef Bowl Challenge, no other restaurant’s challenge was really quite as difficult. All his friends were out either at work or on patrol, he was caught up on all his assignments, and it was his day off from the clinic. _He had nothing to do._

Yu had just about resigned himself to a Netflix binge (using Yosuke’s account of course, because he’d never bothered to get his own) when there was a curt knock on the door.

Eager for something to do, he pushed himself up. It could be Teddie coming for a visit; he did say he wanted to come up soon.

He wasn’t quite expecting the resident of apartment 205 to be standing in his entryway. Yu rose a brow. “It was Izukai-san, right? Did you need something?”

The brunette wrinkled his nose at the name. “No honorifics, please. They remind me of my dad. But, uh…” Yu got a better look, only now realizing the other’s hands were covered in what looked like bits of rice and burnt egg. “…You got an extra pan?” Yu’s other brow to meet the first, both climbing higher.

“Are you cooking something?”

Izukai grimaced, though it was quickly replaced by a rather sheepish look. “Er… Something like that? You wouldn’t happen to know how to make omelette rice, would you?”

 

 

Yu wasn’t entirely sure how they ended up in Izukai’s apartment after that, but it was probably a good thing they had. The immaculate space was marred by the mess in the kitchen, and Yu wrinkled his nose at the smell permeating in the room. He found the source rather quickly in the sink.

“What were you trying to make again?” He glanced back at the indignant expression on the other’s face. The entire prospect was rather amusing, and it no doubt showed on his face. Definitely better than that Netflix binge. “Omelette rice?”

Izukai deflated rather quickly, crossing his arms and leaning back against the counter. “I’ve been trying to learn how to cook. My sister’s the only cook in the family, but she’s been busy with her nursing degree.”

Yu’s teasing grin faded into something sincerer at his neighbor’s embarrassment. “Come over here; I can at least teach you how to make omelette rice.”

They spent a good half hour just cleaning off the pan. Yu liked his neighbor, but there was no way they were using his pan—if the building caught fire, he didn’t want his stuff being used as evidence. (He’d seen the Inspector jump on such cases before while searching for a match for the partial print he had in his possession. Yu still wasn’t sure exactly when and how he’d even gotten that print.)

Izukai was utterly hopeless with cooking, as it turned out. Yu thought the guy just needed someone physically there to guide him along the process and show him how it was done; but no, he just lacked an utter understanding of how cooking worked. He knew it, too. It was evident in the way he let Yu take over any task assigned to him without protest or complaint, almost resignedly. Yu couldn’t deny his handiness with a blade, however; when Yu finally just left him to dicing the onions, Izukai did so with an ease rivalling Yu himself. (Yu secretly believed it came from an immense amount of practice, thanks to this sister.)

Yu served up the simple dish at the bar, seeing as Izukai didn’t have a kitchen table. He was a little heavy-handed with the salt, but evidently Izukai didn’t seem to mind, mimicking Yosuke’s reaction every time he made a new recipe.

“Narukami, you are a god. What the hell is this? I haven’t eaten food this good since I moved out.” Yu laughed.

(He wondered if this Runes thing was at all like Social Links. They both filled up his soul in the same way, a weight that filled him with warmth and made his fingers tingle pleasantly. He felt a little more like himself with every addition, every bond he strengthened.)

“I’ve had a lot of practice.” He shrugged, still smiling. Izukai gave him an understanding look, and Yu knew better than to ask about it if the other was willing to pass it up as well.

“You should talk with my sister. The two of you could trade recipes or something.” Izukai had a fond look every time he mentioned her; Yu wondered if he looked like that when talking about Akira. No one had ever said anything about it, but he supposed the expressions on their faces should’ve said enough.

Remembering his own brother reminded him of the letter, still sitting on his desk an apartment away. Izukai had a sister; he would know how to handle something like that, right?

His neighbor seemed to sense the mood change, raising a brow and setting down his spoon.

Yu only fidgeted for another minute before his pride gave in to his brotherly instincts. “Would you mind terribly if I asked for some advice?”

Izukai’s right brow joined its companion high on his forehead. “As long as it’s not about cooking, sure. I don’t know if I’d be able to help, though.”

(How was he even supposed to start this conversation? It was awkward and uncomfortable and he shouldn’t have said anything in the first place— _dammit, Yu, just ask him. You don’t want to ruin this relationship with your only brother before it even begins._ )

“Well… I thought that I could ask for some advice. Brother to brother.” He cringed inwardly at the wording even as he put on his best disarming smile. That was terrible. And he’d been trying to get into law school?

Izukai looked highly amused at the question, but he didn’t laugh (yet). Maybe it wasn’t completely hopeless. “Sure. I take it you have a sibling as well? What’s the issue?”

Yu’s hands fidgeted for a moment longer as he pondered over how much to reveal. They weren’t exactly best friends. “My younger brother and I were separated when our parents were divorced, and we only recently came back into contact.”

“And your brother wants to know more about you, but you’re not sure what to say.” Yu looked up in surprise, and Izukai gave him a grim smile. “I’m in a similar situation with my younger sister. She has amnesia.”

It seemed the both of them were just full of tragic family stories. Yu grimaced in sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

Izukai shook his head. “It’s probably better this way. She’s happier with her adoptive parents, as far as I’m concerned.” Yu raised a brow, but he didn’t press. That wasn’t the subject of their conversation after all. “But you wanted advice. Er, I guess… Don’t bombard him with facts or little skills you can do. Start a conversation. He wants to get to know you, but you need to get to know him too.” Yu’s neighbor scratched the back of his neck, face twisted in uncertainty. “Annoying as he can be sometimes, I want to know what my brother is doing. If he has a bad day, a girlfriend, or a new job. Stuff like that, I guess. The other things just come with time.”

“You have a brother, too?” Izukai grinned, seeming relieved for a more comfortable topic.

“One of four kids. Maybe you’ll meet them sometime.”

 

 

Yu didn’t leave for another couple of hours, not really willing to go back to his empty apartment. Izukai didn’t seem to mind anyways.

When he did finally leave later that night, he found himself strangely exhausted. It was almost the inverse of how he felt after spending time with one of his Social Links. Whereas with Yosuke or Rise or Nanako, he always left them feeling reenergized and filled with a fullness, Yu felt drained. That full warmth that encompassed him was still present, the tingly feeling in his fingers still around, but rather than walking on air, he felt more as if he was trudging through solid rock.

Yu hardly even noticed Yosuke plucking at his guitar in the living room, falling face first onto his bed. He was out before he’d landed.

* * *

 

Takemi raised a brow, unimpressed, as Izanagi climbed painstakingly through her window. The hero limped inside, climbing onto the bed with a barely suppressed groan.

“Alone again?”

Izanagi didn’t bother responding, unceremoniously tugging off the metal mask and dropping it on the floor with a clang. Yu sighed, letting his head flop back, hand still pressing against his side. Blood seeped through his fingers, already starting to pool onto the paper beneath him. Takemi sighed, already moving to get the sutures necessary for stitches.

When she didn’t hear any movement from the bed, she frowned, roughly pulling out a large bottle of antiseptic. “Take off your shirt.” Her intern mumbled something incoherent in protest, but the rustling of cloth proved he was doing as she’d asked.

Takemi shook her head, unimpressed, as the sight before her. Yu’s torso was littered in little scars; whatever healing he typically got from one of his teammates didn’t always completely heal the wound. Traces of a terrible burn on his side, most likely from lightning, and remnants of a sharp object digging into his shoulder, looking suspiciously like claw marks. Some of the uglier scars she remembered patching up herself. Others she distinctly remembered bandaging last week weren’t even visible anymore.

The current cause for concern, however, was a nasty-looking abrasion on his right side, as if the wind had become sharp enough to cut through skin. She didn’t question it—didn’t really want to, if she were being completely honest—slapping Yu’s hand away from the wound so she could clean it and get a better look.

Some of the blood was starting to congeal, which was a cause for worry in and of itself. If he’d been running around with this long enough for it to start closing up…

“You’re lucky I just closed. A few minutes earlier and my guinea pig would be calling the police about a masked intruder.” Yu grimaced.

“He’s still letting you experiment on him?”

Takemi had absolutely no qualms about sticking a needle through the young man’s skin, despite his sudden yelp at the unexpected pain. Really, with all the times she’s patched him up, he should be paying her like the rest of her patients. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business, but yes.”

Yu remained quiet after that, clenching his jaw as the doctor finished up the stitches. It was only as she sat back that he spoke again. “…I checked before I came in, you know. That you were closed.”

She could sense something wrong, and her voice was soft when she replied. “I know.”

Takemi didn’t say anything when he got comfortable on the bed, turning back to her work. This happened, occasionally. Sometimes Yu would come in, injured, after patrolling alone. He was always quiet when he came in, both in and out of costume, but those days there was something darker hovering over him, tamping down on the brightness of his eyes and the lightness of his personality. She never asked, never really needed to. The world was corrupt, tainted, and it was never more prevalent than in the city. Heroes saw it more than most, it seemed.

Sometimes, the darkness in people’s hearts were all one could see.

Takemi remembered the first time.

He’d just come to the city, practically begging to intern under her. Why a college student would want to intern under the Plague of all medical professionals… Regardless, she had given in. Something about that earnest look of his…

It had only been a month into the internship when she’d been closing up for the night, getting ready to head home, when he’d come falling through her window. She’d nearly called the police when he’d unmasked himself. (Well, it had certainly explained why he was so insistent on interning under her.)

She’d scolded him for going out alone and getting injured, for running around as a masked hero, for generally just being an idiot. It had been a concern when he hadn’t reacted, but she hadn’t thought anything of it.

Later that night, he’d cried his eyes out in her arms.

Takemi sighed, unable to really focus on the results of the latest test as she turned back to Yu’s prone form on the bed. It wasn’t exactly made for sleeping, but it seemed he was out anyway. Seeing him lying there reminded her of another young man that passed out often on the same bed.

Takei smiled. Perhaps this was what having younger siblings felt like. If so, she had quite troublesome younger brothers.

* * *

 

Yu awoke to the soft murmur of voices.

He groaned, the velvety cushions beneath him absurdly comfortable as he pushed his sore body into a seated position. He didn’t recall feeling his physical ailments in the Velvet Room before; it was a strange situation, an indication that something wasn’t quite right.

“Welcome to the Velour Room.”

The girl’s voice brought his memory back up to speed, and Yu took in the living room once more. Isobel was once more seated on one of the armchairs before him, and with a sigh of resignation, Yu sunk back into the loveseat. It was absurd how quickly he got used to this again.

Her smile widened. “You have questions.” She gestured to him, “Please, ask. We have some time.”

He wasn’t quite sure what prompted this, but it was more than he got from Igor, who was all mysterious all the time.

“I understand this place is linked to the Velvet Room, but why…?” He gestured to the room as a whole. The Velvet Room had been a limo, moving on an unseen path. But this was a home.

Her elegant fingers tapped against the book in her lap. “You ask some interesting questions, Narukami Yu.” She nodded to herself. “Let me ask you a question. What is velour?”

She must have known he knew the answer—it was something he learned from Kanji a while back—if just from the way she gazed at him. The strip of cloth covering her eyes didn’t impede her sight whatsoever, he was sure.

“It’s a type of fabric, resembling velvet.” It was fairly obvious, as he was sure that had the name of the place not been the _Velour_ Room, he would’ve thought the loveseat was velvet, like the limousine had been.

Isobel beamed at him. “It is but one of many fabrics often referred to as fake velvet. I thought it was only fitting, since this place is modelled after the Velvet Room. My Master though it would be more comfortable for our Guests if they awoke in a familiar setting.”

Yu raised a brow. “But then why is the room not exactly the same?”

She leaned towards him, as if imparting a snippet of gossip she had overhead in class. “Because the form the Velvet Room takes, while different for every occupant, always represents a journey. A limousine, an elevator, it is a transition from one point in life to the other. But your journey is over, Narukami Yu. You have found your home.” Isobel sat back, suddenly straight and poised and otherworldly once more, gesturing to the room around them.

“Sister,” Richard was suddenly in the room, even though Yu had no recollection of perceiving his entrance, and he was glad neither of the Velour residents mentioned the way he startled at the sound of Richard’s voice. The young man turned his inhuman golden eyes on Yu, and smiled briefly before returning his gaze to his sister.

Isobel nodded, seeming to understand even though no more words were spoken. “Very well.” Richard retreated, moving to stand by the closed door behind Yu.

The girl opened the book she held to a page. From Yu’s seat, it appeared to be blank.

_“The horse before earls, a noble’s pleasure._  
Proud on its hooves, around it wealthy heroes  
exchange speech. Ever a comfort to the restless.”

She closed the book, and upon her palm was a wooden Rune, what looked to be the letter M carved into it. “ _Ehwaz_ , the symbol of the Horse. Representing partnerships, progress, and mobility, its appearance may indicate an upcoming journey. Progress will be made, and the means for moving forward in your life will bring about the courage and energy to see it through. A strong and harmonious partnership has formed; help can be expected and given to benefit both parties. It cautions us to keep the wily spirit of the Horse under our control, but this symbol indicates our lives are moving forward.” She set the rune beside _Mannaz_ on the table—it hadn’t been there before, but Yu wasn’t about to question it—and both wooden pieces pulsed with light.

“Takemi Tae eased the journeys of others in her own Transformation. Learn from her will so that your Transformation may aid in other journeys, as they have aided in yours.” Isobel smiled at him, and stood, moving to join her brother by the door. “Please grace us with your presence again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll be hinting at the real reason for the Runes in the explanations the Velour residents give, and maybe a few other things, haha. :) I promise you, no matter how useless they seem, the Runes actually have a purpose. If you want, in the future I can add a list of the Runes and their corresponding person, which I’ll update as chapters come out. Just a thought though.
> 
> Also thinking about eventually doing a oneshot about that night that Takemi mentions earlier in the chapter. It’s still but a thought though, haha, so someone else is welcome to do it instead. Yes, I’m that lazy.
> 
> Fun Fact: In line with the Velvet Room’s Frankenstein theory, the Velour Room occupants are named after characters from The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson, another horror classic that takes after Jungian and Freudian psychology. (Gabriel John Utterson and Richard Enfield are both characters within the book. Isobel is named after Stevenson’s stepdaughter, who would often transcribe his stories when he was too ill to write.)  
> The Shadow self is also embodied in the Jekyll/Hyde dynamic, with Hyde being much like the Shadow of Dr. Jekyll, unseen and unrelated until the end of the book.


	8. nothing with any certainty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.”   
> ~Vincent Van Gogh

It was a longer wait than before in the days after he sent his letter. Akira spent the days distracting himself with other things, more important things, like exploring more of Mementos and the newest Palace and school and looting behind everyone’s backs and not staring blankly at his desk at three in the morning, agonizing over the extra cash in his pockets and not over a letter from a fixture of his imagination. Because that’s all it was, ultimately. A shadow of a person made up of the cardboard cutouts of pieces of letters and words and Akira’s overactive imagination trying to create someone that won’t be disappointed, that won’t look at him with all the expectations and wishes of things he could’ve been.

So Akira pickpockets the next unfortunate soul he comes across, because if he can’t fill up that emptiness in his soul, he can at least fill up the emptiness in his pockets.

Smuggling these things into the shop and behind Sojiro’s back is infinitely easier when he has his school bag with him, but infinitely harder to get past Morgana. The up side to having the cat disappear whenever he had a shift of “helping out” at Leblanc. So Akira hid his stuff in his room where Morgana wouldn’t think to look—he’d have to stop by Iwai’s soon to pawn off that necklace—and changed into something more comfortable than the stiff Shujin uniform.

Seeing as he didn’t actually have a shift at Leblanc, Akira ducked into one of the booths, ignoring the nasty eye he received from the shop’s owner as he did so. None of his confidants were available except the other Thieves, but they would be heading to the Palace as soon as his “shift” ended. Nothing to do but wait then.

He snagged the crossword table that’d been left on the table behind him and picked up a pen.

 

 

 

“Mind if I sit here?” Akira jerked at the sound, adjusting his glasses as he looked up at a smiling face and long, dark hair.

“O-Of course,” Amagi-san’s smile widened as she sat across from him, and only a moment later Sojiro brought over her coffee. He glanced at Akira, brow raised, but he returned to the counter without saying anything.

“You’re not working today, I see,” her eyes were amused as she eyed him over the coffee mug. Akira shrugged. “I work at a café myself.”

“Then why are you coming here for coffee?”

Amagi-san shrugged, “It’s better, and I don’t get free coffee at work.” As if to prove her point, she took a long sip from her mug, sighing contentedly. “What about you? You’re not working today but you’re here anyways.”

Akira, not knowing what to say, shrugged. “Nothing to do right now.” He gestured to the half-filled crossword still on the table.

“Really? I’d think a high school student would be hanging out with friends, at least.”

Right. He was supposed to be a normal high school student. Normal high school students hang out with friends and do normal things. Things like not stealing.

“I’m going downtown with some friends tonight. So nothing to do until then.” He hoped that stutter he heard was just his imagination. Given the raised brow, he’d say he wasn’t that lucky.

“Oh, really?” The genuine interest in her voice took him aback. “Doing anything special?”

There was something he could test… Akira ducked his head and shrugged, trusting his glasses to hide the look in his eyes. “I heard the Phantom Thieves of Hearts had posted a calling card all over Shibuya. We were going to check it out.”

Amagi-san’s expression was unreadable, but there was a… discomfort, of sorts, in her voice. “Do you… like the Phantom Thieves?”

There wasn’t a lot in her voice to give anything away, but she seemed nice enough that Akira could take a bit of a gamble. “Yeah, I do.” He glanced at her from over the rim of his glasses, head still mostly ducked and face hidden by his glasses and wild hair. “They’re pretty cool.”

“…Yes, I suppose they are.” Her eyes softened, and she stared fondly at him for a long moment before Akira started squirming.

“Uh, is there… something on my face?”

Amagi-san shook her head, setting down the mug after taking another sip. “No, I’m sorry. You just remind me of a friend of mine.”

“How so?”

Her expression only became fonder. “I’m not quite sure how to put it into words. He… He gives off an air of someone you can trust and rely on. You feel the same way.”

Akira opened his mouth to respond, but the jangling of the bell was followed by a loud, very familiar voice.

“Hey, Akira!” Ryuji and the others shuffled in under Sojiro’s watchful gaze, several faces looking on in surprise and interest at the sight of the young woman sitting across from Akira. Ryuji grinned unapologetically. “Sorry, we didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s not like that.” His words didn’t seem to affect that grin, but Amagi-san simply stood, unphased.

“I suppose we both should be going then.”

_That_ got rid of Ryuji’s grin. “Er, I—shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude—”

Amagi-san laughed, waving off his stuttering attempt at an apology. “No, not at all. I have my own plans tonight.” There was a mischievous gleam to her eyes, and for a brief moment, Akira wondered if they might not be more alike than he first thought. But she merely waved, thanked Sojiro for the coffee, paid, and left.

 

* * *

 

 

_Sir Kaneshiro Junya,  
the money-devouring sinner of gluttony,_

_You indulge in scamming others with horrendous methods that target minors exclusively.  
We have decided to make you confess all your crimes with your own mouth._

_We will take your distorted desires without fail,_

_From,  
the Phantom Thieves of Hearts_

 

* * *

 

The vault was a pain to get through, as if the Palace wasn’t hard enough on its own without this shit. And if that wasn’t enough, the path to the Treasure was blocked by the newly added safe spinning before them.

“He changed the entire room so quickly…” Morgana growled, eyes narrowed at the vault, “Tch, I guess this Palace isn’t a bank for nothing.”

And Kaneshiro’s Shadow then stepped before them, white suit, goons, and all. He spoke, the other Thieves firing back at him with their own barbed words, but Joker’s hands were twitching, wandering. He wanted to know what would happen this time, if it worked the way it had before, with Madarame’s and Kamoshida’s Shadows.

“This is where my gracious lecture ends.” Joker’s eyes snapped back into focus as Kaneshiro’s body contorted, squirmed, _buzzed_. The henchmen shrieked, stumbling to get away from the new monstrosity.

Ryuji snorted. “Well, compared to the last two this should be easy. Anyone got a fly swatter?”

“Stay on your guard,” Morgana replied as the Shadow straightened up, smirking.

“I can take care of this myself.” He raised his arms, smirked, and continued with, “Wassup yo?! Now come get some!”

To say the least, Makoto was not amused. “You filthy fly on dirty money… Get the hell out of my face!”

The man laughed, still performing his yakuza routine. Joker thought back to the last two Palaces and wondered how much of this Kaneshiro was fake.

But Akira summoned up a persona and attacked.

Bael was weak, surprisingly so, and with every hit that landed, the tension in Akira’s shoulders knotted in bigger tangles. It was far too easy for someone like Kaneshiro. And knowing the man, there had to be something else up his sleeve. It was far too difficult to get here for the man to simply be this weak.

The Shadow fell to his knees, and without hesitation they each took out their firearms, surrounding the fly.

“Show no mercy! Let’s finish him!” Morgana was ready, as was everyone else, but Joker just wanted a moment, just one, to reach out and touch him.

There was no sense in finesse, and Joker punched him right in his fat face.

 

* * *

 

 

_“No dinner ‘gain tonight. Sorry, kid.”_

_Overgrown stubble and tired, tired eyes. All he wanted to do was sleep. Junya couldn’t understand why._

_“But I’m hungry!”_

_Dad turned on him, and his eyes held nothing but cold. “I said,_ no dinner _.”_

 

_Humiliation burned strong in his gut as he bowed before the smug face above him._

_“I don’t think you’re sincere enough. On your knees.”_

_Junya could hear his teeth grinding as he lowered himself to his knees, pressing his forehead to the ground so they wouldn’t see the fury burning in his eyes._

_“This is the hierarchy of the world. Fools should just suck it up and help those on top rise to further heights.”_

_Junya remembered his father’s tired, tired eyes._

 

_He’d been working for years, and nothing had come of it. The strong devour the weak. But in this world, wouldn’t the clever ones also be strong? What they didn’t have in power they could make up by stealing from others. As long as you have the money, who cares where you get it? As long as you end up on the top, it doesn’t matter._

 

_The men were all laughing and jeering and Junya didn’t understand why dad was just sitting there. Weren’t you supposed to stand up to the bullies? Wasn’t that what he always said?_

_Dad got on his knees and pressed his face to the ground, and the men all laughed louder. Dad’s hand—rough, worn to the bone—pushed down on his head until Junya’s face was also pressed to the ground._

_“I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again, sir.”_

_Dad’s hand was shaking on his head. Junya peeked over, turning just slightly towards him._

_Tears were streaming down his face and there was cold fury and hot shame in his eyes._

_“I’m sorry.”_

_Junya wanted to go home. Even if the pipes leaked and their neighbors were too loud and spiders always made homes out of corners. He wanted to go home. He never wanted to see dad cry._

_Something like hot shame burrowed itself in his gut._

 

_The kids laughed, and Junya sniffled. He wouldn’t cry. Dad never cried, because strong men didn’t cry. Not over something like this. He wasn’t weak. He wasn’t._

_The children walked away, and no one was there to see whether or not he cried._

 

_“I just wanted a place where I could belong…”_

_I just want to a place to go home to._

 

* * *

 

 

“The hell…? Looks like yeh punks are stronger than yeh look.” Bael was clutching his nose where Joker had hit him, but he was grinning. “Looks like I gotta bring out my big guns…!”

Joker’s eyes widened, and Ryuji grabbed him by the elbow and leaped back. “Everyone get back!” The others followed suit as Bael spread his arms out and gloated.

“Here he is… **My guardian robot**!”

A smaller door in the safe’s larger one opened, and with all of them warily keeping back, Bael took the chance to buzz up through it. But it didn’t take long for the larger door to open, revealing the true fight before them.

“A pig?!”

“ **It ain’t a pig, yo! This is my Palace’s swine-model defensive mechanoid, Piggytron!** ” The man cackled, and with him inside the Piggytron, there was no way for Joker to reach out, no way to touch him. “ **Goin’ against me’s a real bad crime, yeh know? It’s time for yeh all to go to hell!”**

Physical attacks did little on a giant metal robot, and they were forced to resort primarily to Personas. The guns were easy enough to avoid, and Joker flipped out of the way as the Piggytron fired at him, but Kaneshiro was conniving, and as he landed the main body dropped, and the resulting shockwave had all of them tumbling to the ground. Bael cackled. “ **Go, Piggytron! Super VIP Form!”**

The legs retreated inwards, and Bael flew out of the contraption to stand up top, but Joker had only a brief moment to celebrate as the man started running backwards up top.

“Don’t tell me it’s going to roll into us!” Morgana began retreating backwards, and Joker shot Makoto a _look_ , and that was all that was needed for Queen to rev Johanna.

The Piggytron shot forward, and Queen managed to grab Mona and Panther as Johanna carried them out of the way, and Joker had just enough time to leap towards Skull and shove him by, and the Piggytron _roared_ past, and Joker _screamed._

“Joker!”

There was a chorus of voices all shouting over one another, but he didn’t have time to pay attention to them, didn’t have time to look at the shattered remains of his leg because they were in the middle of a fight, and he _was a Phantom Thief goddammit_.

The piggytron popped back up onto its legs and Bael was laughing. “ **How’s this!? Can’t even speak cause of how scary my Piggytron is, huh?”**

Joker used the brief reprieve resulting from the Shadow’s gloating to dig out the medicine in his pockets. He wasn’t quite sure what it was (his vision was spotty and fading and the only thing he could focus on was the _painpainpain_ ) but there was a wash of numbing relief over his body upon downing the whole bottle, strong enough to make him want to collapse then and there.

With the relief came the return of his senses and his brain, and he could hear above him Skull sending out orders, and soon enough Panther was beside him with _Diarama_ , and along with the spell was the uncomfortable feeling of his bones slotting themselves into place, his skin and sinews stitching themselves back into place around them.

Joker took a shuddering breath and stood up.

He kept his physical attacks to a minimum, let his Personas do the work. The others kept glancing back at him, watching, waiting, worry in their eyes. Joker steadfastly ignored them, and ignored the fear that shivered down his back when Bael came out again, the Piggytron dropping into its Super VIP Form.

“Is that bastard going to rush us again?!” There was the barely laced panic there, and Joker gritted his teeth. He wouldn’t be able to move fast enough this time.

“Wait a second… We can attack Kaneshiro directly right now!” The fire of hope lit behind the eyes of each member, in the visible gleams through the masks.

“Then we should be able to stop the rush!”

The direction of their attacks changed, but that didn’t seem to faze the Shadow, and Joker tried to ignore the flicker of doubt as Bael began to speed up, began to prepare for another rush. But then he slipped, not quite able to keep up with the injuries he sustained, and without a directing force behind its speed, Queen was able to move everyone out of the way as the Piggytron attacked its owner.

One more attack by Skull destroyed the Piggytron, and gold bars tumbled out. Kaneshiro’s Shadow crawled for it, hugging one of the bars possessively, fear and pain shaking his frame. For a Shadow, he looked far too human.

“I’m not gonna let anyone have it… This is my money…”

“You stole it all from innocent people!” Queen snapped back, looking very much like she wanted to punch him again.

“…Fine. I’ll call off the debt…”

That wasn’t satisfactory enough, Skull sounding just as pissed as Queen looked. “Fine? You’re still sounding pretty condescending.”

“You’re right…” Joker pitied this man, this insufferably weak human being. “I’m a poor, ugly… idiot… How am I supposed to live a normal life like this…? It’s all because of our society! Weak people can’t lead a happy life, no matter what they do! I’m a victim too, you know?! Yeah, none of this is my fault!”

Joker knew. But that wasn’t enough to assign the blame so arbitrarily. Kaneshiro couldn’t change what he’d done.

“I just wanted a place where I could belong! You get that, don’t you?!”

They all did. Far too much. Joker closed his eyes and let the others speak, let the stolen memories play on the back of his eyelids.

“Seriously? You guys don’t have any tact. Especially with that incredible power… These Palaces could net you loads of cash! You could do whatever you wanted to people’s hearts!” Those words were jarring, and for the first time Joker understood how truly dangerous this all was.

“We’re not like you!” Skull snapped, but it was there in his voice too. The thread undertone of fear, noticeable only to those that knew him well enough.

Kaneshiro chuckled. “Where do you find meaning in that naïve sense of justice…? You know, there’s already someone out there taking full advantage of what Palaces have to offer…”

_What?_

At their confusion, Kaneshiro’s face twisted into something maliciously gleeful. “I’ll let you in on a little something… There’s a criminal using other people’s Palaces to accomplish whatever they damn well please. They don’t care about consequences. Psychotic breakdowns, mental shutdowns… Anything goes.”

What should’ve been a celebration left them all brooding the rest of that night.

 

* * *

 

 

If Akira limped into work that day, Hanasaki didn’t say anything, though she gave him an apologetic look as she pulled out a large bouquet of orchids and asters.

“I hate to ask this of you, Kurusu-kun, but do you think you could do a delivery? Odaki-san called in sick this morning.” Odaki was the other coworker at the tiny flower shop, and typically he handled all the deliveries while Hanasaki did owner things. This usually left Akira to do menial things like cleaning shop and doing the bouquets for walk-in requests. Every once in a while, if he was doing extra well that day, Hanasaki let him do one of the more important requests, with her final seal of approval, of course. “You’ll be paid extra for the trouble.”

Well, who was he to say no to that?

 

 

This was how Akira ended up in front of Nikkou Homes half an hour later, arms laden with the bouquet of flowers. He only hesitated a moment before stepping through the doors and making a beeline for the front desk. It was empty other than him and the clerk, and what sounded suspiciously like Mozart played overhead at a low volume.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, um,” Akira fumbled for the note Hanasaki had written him, narrowly avoiding spilling the bouquet all over the woman’s expensive-looking blouse. “I have a delivery for room 301?” The clerk looked properly at him then, eyebrows raised in something between surprise and recognition.

“Oh, are you new?” Akira nodded, “Odaki-san usually walks right on in since Sakai-san doesn’t really mind.” She started scribbling something down on the desk before looking back up at him. “Oh, right! Just use the elevator. It’ll be the first room on your left.”

He mumbled a thank you and headed for the elevator, pressing the 3 with his elbow.

A cheery ding announced his arrival, and Akira adjusted his hold on the flowers, knocking on the door labeled ‘301’. There was no response. He tried again. Still nothing.

Swallowing and hiding his face behind the flowers, Akira tried the knob, and when it gave, mumbled “excuse me” as he entered.

The room was clean, but barren, other than the bed, side table, and the pair of armchairs seated by the window. The sunlight streaming in through the window was bright in the lack of fluorescent lighting, only highlighting the almost ghostly presence there. A woman with more wrinkles than should warrant her age stared listlessly out the window, bony hands clasped loosely in her lap. Her long, dark hair might have been beautiful once, but it now hung like a shroud around her face. Her back was hunched and her shoulders bowed, as if the weight of the world was sitting upon them.

There was an empty vase on the side table, and Akira gingerly placed the flowers there, watching the woman for a long moment. He felt as if he was watching a crystal chandelier; one wrong move and he’d send the whole thing crashing down.

“Sakai-san,” he spoke softly, barely a whisper, as if even his voice might break her, “I brought you some flowers. I’m going to leave them in this vase, if that’s alright.”

She turned then, just the barest movement at first, but then more fully, until her stormy eyes were staring at him. There was a blizzard there, but as soon as she saw him, it lightened into a gentle drift of snowflakes. Her smile was the kind that lit up her whole face, and there was something immensely sad about that.

“Youta,” she spoke softly, kindly, and it felt wrong, “Welcome home.” She spread her arms wide for him, and Akira’s face twisted with pity.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not Youta.” The light in her smile dimmed, and rain was falling in her eyes. Her arms stretched wider.

“Come here,” it was a command, and Akira followed it, crouching down to meet her at eye level. She took off his glasses, folding them and placing them in her lap with the utmost care before taking his face in both her glass hands. She tilted his face in several directions, always gentle, and the rain in her eyes made them all the cloudier. “What is your name, child?”

“Kurusu Akira,” he replied. She got very sad then.

“Thank you for the flowers, Akira-kun.” She smiled, a melancholic sight, and released his face.

Akira didn’t know how to deal with this. “You’re welcome.”

 

* * *

 

 

Akira came home to a letter on his desk, and he smiled tiredly. The past week had been a drain on his emotions, it seemed, and he was in a constant state of pain from his still-healing leg. (He was going to have to see Takemi about it soon.) He picked up the letter, hobbling over to his bed. Morgana moved aside as he collapsed onto the covers, tail waving about curiously as he looked at the letter.

“Another one? Are you ever going to tell me who you’re writing?”

Akira shrugged. “Maybe.”

Morgana huffed, but resettled himself on the end of the bed nonetheless, and Akira tore open the envelope.

 

 

_Dear Akira (is it okay if I call you that?),_

_I don’t know what I could possibly tell you about myself. I’m not a very interesting person._

_But if you really wish to know, I’ll answer any questions you have. In return, though, I would like to get to know you too. Mr. Nao doesn’t tell me much._

_So what would you like to know?_

_Sincerely,  
Yu_

 

 

Akira smiled. He was already forming a mental list in his head even as he fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Akira opened his eyes once more to find himself not in the prison of the Velvet Room, but in the white comforts of the Velour Room. He sat up on the bed, glancing about to find the room changed slightly from before. Curtains hung about the window, a silvery throw blanket draped over the end of the bed. A bookshelf now sat next to the desk as well, though presently it appeared to be empty.

Just as before, the boy with the golden eyes and ebony black hair was sitting atop the desk, legs swinging back and forth in the air.

“Well, look who’s back. Welcome to the Velour Room, Kurusu Akira.” Gabriel huffed, looking unimpressed. Richard was nowhere to be seen.

“What exactly is this place?”

Gabriel ignored him, rolling his eyes as he jumped off the desk. One hand settled on his hip while the other held up a photo from the desk, and Gabriel read from it curtly.

_“Ice is very cold and vastly slippery._  
It glistens like a glass, or a jewel,  
The ground formed of frost, is a fair to behold.”

The photo was very quickly replaced with a wooden rune with the simple flick of his wrist, the small object of which Gabriel held up for Akira to see as it pulsed with light. A single straight line, like that of the alphabetic letter ‘I’.

“ _Isa_ is the symbol of Ice.  Everything is frozen, and it has no motion. If you try to walk on it, you will get nowhere fast. With _Isa_ , do not expect any changes soon. It is a time to be calm and take stock; look to the future. Sometimes it’s better to take the time to think and plan in order to move forward. When _Isa_ is in play, look deeper. Think carefully about the situation you’re in, and why you are in it.” Gabriel’s fist closed around the rune, and it was placed back onto the desk. “Sakai Reiko has stepped back to see her Reasons and how they brought her to where she is now. Learn from her mind so when the spring comes, you will be ready to move forward.”

Gabriel crossed his arms, glaring at Akira. For whatever reason, Akira didn’t particularly feel all that hated.

“I bet Richard would look forward to your next visit, but don’t expect the same from me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, guys, guys. I literally just found out about Persona Q2 and I am dying ohmygods. I need this game so badly and it’s not even out in Japan yet.  
> I also just found out that this fic has more kudos than Paw for the Course??? Like??? (That’s an amazing fanfiction by disco_agidyne, though it’s actually a Yu/Akira fic, so if you like this headcanon too much it may not be for you, but it’s super great so you should give it a shot.)
> 
> But on another note, I am so sorry it’s been so long. *^* Life goes by fast wow. To be honest, the reason for the delay (other than life shit) was that there was a plot thing that I was super unhappy with, and then a month ago I had an epiphany and have been redoing a bunch of stuff to fix it since. But I am super excited to write the last 5 chapters so if that’s not a motivator I don’t know what is. I have no WiFi right now (I moved just recently) because the Internet people suck, but soon it will be rectified. But yes. I am so sorry you’ll probably have to reread to figure out what’s happening (I know I did).
> 
> Nikkou is basically just “sunshine”.  
> Asters, in the way I am using them, symbolize patience, while orchids are a way of stating “I will always love you”.
> 
> Trivia: So to answer an inquiry that I’d had a while ago, the Shadows do not drop money or items in this universe. They’re like, normal monsters in an anime or show, not a game. The only money the Thieves make doing their do would be the Treasures that they pawn off to Iwai. So all the medicine and stuff is super expensive, not including the extra fees that Akira uses for Confidants (AKA Chihaya). The Thieves know he works several jobs (the flower shop, the convenience store, the bar, and occasionally he gets compensation from Sojiro for doing extra work at Leblanc), and they chip in with money as well. They assume all that money goes to medicine and equipment (which it does).   
> In truth, while they can scrape by with that money for medicine and equipment, the high quality stuff and anything that Akira wants to use for his Confidants require a little extra ‘oomph’. Hence why he initially started stealing. Then it became a bit of a hobby/vice, and though at this point he’s got a fair bit of money, he’s still stealing.


End file.
